


Beloved

by ScarlettFAngell



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Blow Jobs, Consent Issues, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fantasy, Internal Conflict, Intrigue, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic, Military Background, Military Training, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Political Alliances, Political Expediency, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Public Blow Jobs, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Slavery, Survival Training, Touch-Starved, Trauma, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettFAngell/pseuds/ScarlettFAngell
Summary: When Kianoush is taken in his sister's stead to complete a treaty between the kingdom of Istaqa and the Ralendran Empire, he's thrust into a plot to unseat an Emperor and bring a country to ruin--but first, he must come to terms with his unreasonable infatuation with Ralendra's Crown Prince. Not to mention all the difficulties being concubine to the Beloved of the Gods entails.Arienkhut must tend to his duties as Beloved of the Gods, but when he's presented with Kianoush as his concubine instead of the young Istaqan prince's sister, he must come to terms with who and what he is, and his deepening infatuation with Kian. While trying to keep Kianoush at arms length, he discovers the plot to unseat his father and begins to wonder just who their enemies really are.





	1. One

**_Kian stared hard at the flickering_ ** shadows on the highly polished stone below his knees, unsure if it was from the torches lighting up the room or something else. He cursed his sister for her fickle moods. What was wrong with her? He ground his teeth together against the pain in his head; an insistent throbbing right behind his left ear. When they came for his sister, she wasn't there. Kian was instead. And the man in charge had not been impressed. Which led to Kian kneeling on a very hard floor, bloodied and bruised, with his hands securely bound behind his back. 

"This is not what I was expecting, Captain." 

Kian flinched as a hand settled on his shoulder, fingers digging into the bruised flesh there. The man standing over him exhaled slowly. "It was not what I was expecting, either," the  captain  said carefully, shifting his stance. Kian eyed the highly polished black boots from under his eyelashes, noting the black braid that fell into his line of sight. Bowing, then? He filed that tidbit away for later consideration. "Your Imperial Majesty."

"Let's see him, then," came another voice, sounding bored. Kian wasn't sure if it was the Emperor's or not. It was too close to the previous voice, but something about it nagged at him. Was it the odd lilt to the voice? Or was it the slight thrumming in his veins that accompanied it?

The hand on his shoulder disappeared but only briefly; fingers wound into his hair painfully before jerking his head up and back. They'd mostly left his face alone. No need for their political prisoner--their new  _harem slave_ , to quote his parents--to have their face ruined too badly. There was a bruise on his cheekbone and his lip was split, the result of a backhanded slap for speaking out of turn. He'd received it after demanding to know why they were looking for his sister, and what they wanted with him. He was hardly a stranger to violence; he'd been a soldier on his country's front-lines for at least two years and had suffered greater wounds fighting the Emperor's men on the front than any they'd inflicted recently. The aching head was new, though. 

The first thing he saw were the disapproving eyes of the Emperor. Too late, he remembered to avert his gaze--and met the flat, black stare of the man standing beside the throne. Something flickered in the man's eyes, but before he could figure out what it was, the man had turned away. Firelight toyed over something dark on his head in waves of blue-green-purple and something white on his chest that glinted silvery. For a moment, Kian thought it was hair, but then  he  cast aside that idea. No, it wasn't hair. The man's head was covered in small, dark feathers. He knew who this man was. How could he not? This man was the only person in the realm whose appearance was beyond the norm.

The crown prince of Ralendra, Prince Arienkhut Cà Ralen.

Kian swallowed. He'd just met the Crown Prince's gaze. And the prince hadn't looked away immediately. Kian felt cowardly for averting his gaze first, but if he hadn't then the Emperor would surely have taken his eyes. Or just killed him. However it would have ended, it would not have been pleasant for  Kian . In fact, it would probably have been very painful. It might still be very painful. Then again, he was n o w a political prisoner... Not that that fact would stop anyone, to be perfectly honest.

"Pretty," the Emperor muttered, then leaned towards his son. They spoke lowly for a moment, exchanging glances and then both men looked at  Kian .  He  tensed, unsure of how to react. "Take him to the Blue Harem. Make sure he's secured."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," the captain murmured and, after a moment, released his hold on Kian's hair. He nearly fell forward but his fall was halted by a tight grip on his elbow. The captain dragged  Kian  to his feet and away from the raised dias the Emperor sat upon. At some point during his near-fall, the prince had disappeared.

Kian felt mildly disappointed, until the captain pulled him around to face the doors and gave him a hard shove between the shoulderblades. His anger flared as his stumbled and fell to his knees, bru i sing them some more. He managed to shove it down as he was hauled up onto his feet again, glad that he hadn't fallen face-first onto the hard marble floor. Then Kian was in the hall with the guard's hand firmly planted on one shoulder.

They led him  down many paths, sometimes in circles, until he head began to pound and he was forced to close his eyes to stop the growing dizziness. Kian was sure this forced march through the palace was deliberate. They had just taken him hostage by force, and he was clearly not happy about it.  Using  disorientating pathways to confuse prisoners was something he'd taught his father's guards to do. Now it was being used against him. He had to wonder where they'd learned the tactic, whether it was from his guards or if it was Ralendra's own genius. Kian didn't care. He just hated feeling so weak.

The forced march stopped abruptly, making Kian's eyes fly open. He was thoroughly lost by now; the path they'd taken had had too many twists and turns. He wasn't even sure if they'd doubled back or not, especially while his eyes had been closed. The doors before him now w ere  unfamiliar and a brilliant ocean blue. He blinked, then flinched at the creaking of leather and metal behind him.

The guard from before--the captain with the ridiculous braid--stepped past him, putting both hands on the bronze handles in the blue, golden-gilded double doors before him. With a gentle shove, they swung open to reveal a luxurious room decked out in a pale blue-violet colour and bathed in flickering lamplight.  

Before Kian could take in much more, the guard was behind him again and giving him a hard shove into the room. Kian stumbled, whacking a shoulder into one of the partially open doors before collapsing onto one knee several steps inside the room. The impact jarred him, stirring up his already painful headache. He made to rise, leg muscles tense for the awkward task of righting himself, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder again. Fingers dug into his bruised skin, forcing him down onto both knees with a pained grunt. The room sp u n a little with the sudden movement, bright gem-like colours mixing unpleasantly with the dark stone floor and the weak sunlight streaming in through the partially drawn curtains. It stung his eyes and made him wince.

"The Prince will return soon," the guard informed him, hand abruptly leaving his shoulder and his voice already fading, booted footsteps sharp against stone as the man stalked back towards the door. Kian turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of the man's back and long braid before the guard turned to grip the door handles, blurred like most of his vision was by now. "You are to stay here until he does."

Kian narrowed his gaze at the man, trying to make his eyes focus, but  his vision  just kept blurring, the edges soft and streaked with colour and light, almost like he was tearing up. He swallowed, moved his head the tiniest bit and watched as the guard swiftly drew the doors closed with a loud click. 

He wasn't sure how long passed before the door opened again almost silently, but it was definitely at least a few hours. A few hours spent with a pounding, dizzy head. Soft footsteps approached him, differing greatly from the soldier's solid boots. Kian went still, listening intently as the newcomer approached. Something about their presence was familiar, but he couldn't quite place how. Strangely, he was not surprised to see the Crown Prince step into his peripheral vision, walking slowly around him until the Prince was directly before him. Kian watched him in silence, vision blurring. He shook his head to clear it.

The Crown Prince of Ralendra, Prince Arienkhut Cà Ralen, stared back at him, dark eyes unreadable. For the long moment, he was silent. Then he planted his fists on his hips and tilted his head to one side--cocking his head not unlike the bird his feathers would imply he was related to. "Why wasn't your sister there?"

Kian blinked, forcing himself to focus. He'd been expecting that question, but wasn't sure how to answer. He pressed his lips into a thin line, debating with himself. The prince's gaze narrowed, making him swallow shallowly. He couldn't betray his sister, but then again... He'd asked why. He hadn't asked him where. Not that he knew where to begin with.

"Apparently she found a bard more entertaining," he said carefully, watching the other man for any sign of irritation or annoyance, any sign of anger. Instead, the prince's expression softened into something like relief. Kian frowned at him.

"I see," the prince muttered, hands slipping off his hips. He lowered his gaze thoughtfully for a moment before raising it to meet Kian's again. "Do you happen to know where she is now?"

That question was also expected, and Kian was pleased to be able to answer it truthfully. He didn't bother to hide the slight smugness in his tone, either. Let the prince think what he wanted of it. Kian was more focused on trying to stay upright at the moment.

"No."

"No?" Prince Arienkhut raised his eyebrows. When he didn't elaborate, those eyebrows dropped down into a frown. "You're telling the truth."

Kian snorted. "Of course I am."

The prince turned away, expression clouded. Kian dropped his gaze to the floor. His headache was back in full force, blurring his vision and making his head pound all over again.  O ff-balance, Kian settled further back on his heels, trying to steady himself. He felt himself swaying to the right just as the prince turned back, vision darkening dangerously. He struggled against his bonds, feeling his balance tip unerringly to the right. As if from a distance, he watched the prince sweep forward. His vision tunneled, and then went black before he could see the outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. So, this this my first work to be posted on Ao3. I've been working on it for quite a while and only recently decided to share it somewhere, so I hope you enjoy! ^^


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is so short. I've noticed that it's an issue and I'm trying to give you longer ones, but I don't know if I can make any promises. Either way, read and enjoy!

**Two**

**_Sunlight streamed in through the flimsy_ **  curtains, casting half of the other man's face into shadows. Arienkhut stared down at him from the side of the bed, expression pointedly blank. Just a few hours ago, Kianoush Ea Istaqanat had been glaring at him defiantly through his fringe before abruptly collapsing. Now his brow was creased in pain and he slept deeply. Too deeply, according to the palace physicians and healers. Arien would trust that they knew best. They wouldn't let his new harem slave die.

"One of the guards hit him far too hard," one of the aforemented healers murmured from beside him. Arien glanced towards him, taking in the frown on the man's face and the blue-tinted greying hair. "We are surprised that his skull is not cracked."

Arien made a non-committal noise before turning away, heading for the window. He'd caught Kianoush before the boy could hit the floor. It wouldn't have done for him to hit his head yet again. Arien had been able to tell that he hadn't been feeling well. No wonder he'd practically fallen over in front of him. Even when the guards had marched him into the throne room... Arien jerked the curtains closed, glancing back over his shoulder. The healer hadn't moved, not even to glance his way when the light dimmed.

"When will he wake up?" he asked, turning to lean back on the wall beside the window.

"We're not sure."

Arien mulled over the words for a moment, considering all the angles, before looking away. "Dismissed," he said, and listened to the healers scurry to pack away their supplies and leave the room. 

Once they were gone, he pushed off the wall and approached Kianoush where he lay on the bed. He really was quite pretty. And tempting enough that Arien nearly forgot himself, reaching out to touch him. He pulled his hand back before he made contact and looked away, swallowing shallowly.

Arien turned away, crossing back to the window. He stood there for some time, staring blankly out the window at the courtyard below. He tensed when the door opened behind him on nearly soundless hinges. Arienkhut hesitated before glancing over his shoulder at the soft footfalls that entered the room. His older brother stood over the Istaqan prince.

"He is as father says," his brother muttered, and sighed. "Quite pretty."

"Kasaika," Arien said, turning to lean back against the windowsill. He watched his brother for a moment, gaze narrowed. He had better not be thinking of taking  _his_   potential concubine away from him. The sudden streak of possessiveness startled him. He didn't even want him to begin with! "What brings you here?"

"Can't I just check on my little brother?" Kasaika asked, throwing him a wry grin. His gaze darted back to the unconscious prince laying on the bed. Arien glared at him. "And take a peek at your newest addition."

"He's not yours to look at, Kasaika."

"I'm not planning on doing more than  _look_ , Arien."

"Kas..." He sighed, tilting his head back against the latticed window. Sometimes, he didn't know why he bothered with this, with trying to tell his brother off. It didn't work. Never had. On the bed, he could hear Kianoush twisting in the sheets, mumbling something incomprehensible. "Don't touch him."

For a moment, his brother didn't move, didn't even breathe, didn't say anything--and then he heard the other man sigh heavily. "Possessive already, huh?"

Arien decided not to dignify that with a reply just yet, turning his head to the side and running one hand through the feathers on his head. He could drop his walls with his brother around, the Istaqan prince unconscious and no one else nearby. At least, a little bit--and if anyone approached.... Well, he'd hear them first. He sighed again, digging his fingers into his scalp.

"Yeah," he breathed, closing his eyes. "I don't know why."

"You're the God and Goddess's chosen one, little brother," Kas said, sounding closer. Arien dropped his head, eyes opening to fix his brother with a dark look. Kasaika was half between the bed and the window. He didn't  _like_ being their chose one. It was wasn't fun. It was exhausting. People excepted so much of him, and he had little to give them to begin with. "Their  _favourite_ . There's got to be--"

"Don't, Kas. I don't want to hear it."

"But--" His brother cut himself off at the glare Arien gave him, looking away from him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't push you. I'm just...  _concerned._ "

Arien glanced away, towards Kianoush. "You have every right to be concerned, Kas. But I promise you; I'm  _fine_ . You have no need to check on me."

"I'm sure there's a reason for your behaviour, Arien. I'll leave you to it." Kas watched him for a moment longer, then turned on his heel and strode to the door. He paused at the door, one hand on the doorknob. "If you need anything..."

"I'll be sure to ask," Arien muttered, and watched as his brother gave him a curt nod, slipping out into the hall. He didn't move, even after the door closed him Kas. After a moment, he turned to fix his gaze on Kianoush. The Istaqan prince was shifting on the bed, sheets tangled around his legs, chest bare. Arien tore his gaze away, squeezing his eyes shut. He took a few minutes to compose himself and then stalked out into the hall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking I might add a scene to this, but I'm not sure what. I'll make sure to let you guys know if and/or when I do. ^^


	3. Three

  **Three**

**_Soft voices drifted past him_ **  in the darkness, making him toss and turn. Kian mumbled in his sleep, twisting again. The voices stopped briefly before moving further away from him. Through the pounding pain in his skull, he could only just make out the words. Something about being pretty and not yours to look at, about being a chosen one. He vaguely recognized Prince Arienkhut's voice, but not the other one.

After several minutes, the voices faded into silence--and he woke to an empty room. Kian pushed up onto an elbow, confused. His head still ached, but nothing like before---before  _what,_  though? He rubbed at his head with his free hand, taking a look around. The room was vaguely familiar, awash in jewel tones--green, blue, gold. He shook his head, grimacing when the movement didn't help the pounding ache between his temples, and, in particular, behind his left ear. He dug his fingers into his hair, tugging sharply to try and distract to himself.

The door opened abruptly, admitting the Crown Prince--and a healer. They both looked towards him. Arienkhut's face was blank, expressionless. The healers, not so much. The old man stalked over to him, pressing him down onto the bed gently with one hand.

"You should not be moving!" he chastised in a gruff voice, his other hand darting up to gingerly feel about Kian's skull. After a moment of thorough investigation, he pulled back with a sigh of relief. "He'll be fine. Give him a few days and keep an eye on him."

Kian scowled, rubbing his sore head as the healer retreated from the room, giving Arienkhut a small bow in the process. The Ralendran prince watched him go, eyes narrowed suspiciously. He didn't move until the door closed behind the healer, swinging to face Kian, taking several steps closer.

After a long, assessing look, Arien surged forward, crowding him down against the bed. "What do you want from me?" the prince hissed, fingers gripping Kian's arms so tightly he was sure they'd bruise. "Why did you let them take you in your sister's place?"

He gasped, staring up at the furious, nearly completely black gaze. He could tell now that they weren't  _completely_ black--they were a very dark brown. "N-nothing!" he got out through tight lips, head tilted back on the pillows. His head ached and throbbed in time with his pounding heartbeat. "I swear! And what else could I do? I tried to protest, I tried to tell them she wasn't there--"

"But they took you in her stead, didn't they?" Arienkhut hissed, something flickering in his gaze. "And they weren't gentle about it, either..."

He bit his lip, nodding a tiny bit--and the grip on his arms disappeared. Arien straightened up as if nothing happened. Kian watched the other man warily as he stalked over to the latticed window, peering out between the curtains and patterned cut-outs.

Kian swallowed, pushing back up onto his elbow. "What do  _you_ want from  _me?_ "

Arienkhut's back went stiff, and he leaned heavily onto the windowsill. He didn't look at Kian when he spoke, tone curt and cold. "I want you to leave," he said sternly, "and to never come back. You don't know what you've been dragged into."

He snorted, earning him a glare from the other prince. "Make. Me."

"Is that a challenge?" Arienkhut asked darkly, pushing off the windowsill and approaching him. There was a sensual sway to his silk-covered hips and a smirk twisting up the corners of mouth. "Are you honestly challenging me right now? When you can't even stay upright?"

Kian cringed back against the bed, even as the dark, seductive tone Arienkhut used sent delighted shivers down his spin. Arienkhut leaned over him again, one hand wrapping around his throat and pressing him down into the bed again. His arm gave out and his back hit the warm sheets below him. Even if he wanted to speak, he honestly didn't know what to say to that.

"Are you stupid or crazy?"

He wet his lips, watching those dark eyes dart down to his mouth briefly. "Neither," he breathed, barely forming the words. "I swear."

"Don't make oaths you can't keep," Arienkhut hissed, shoving him down harder against the bed. Kian felt his throat brusing and a couple of sharp stings where the prince's fingernails had dug into his skin a little. Then the prince was pulling away, straightening up with a grimace. His gaze lingered on Kian's throat for a moment, before he turned way again. "I'm actually quite pleased that she ran away. One less thing to worry about--until that soldier dragged  _you_ back here."

"I didn't  _ask_ to be dragged away--"

"I  _know_   that," the prince growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I don't."

"Then why I am still here if you don't want me?" Kian asked, rolling onto his side and propping a head up on one hand. He eyed the prince thoughtfully. "You didn't seem opposed to the idea in the throne room earlier."

"I was. Keeping you was not my idea--that was Father's."

That brought him up short. So that's what that whispered conversation had been about. He looked at the prince with new eyes, curious now--more so than he'd been before. "You... wanted to let me go?"

Arienkhut spared him an unreadable look. "I'm not too sure about that anymore."

"You're not sure?" Kian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, then up into his hair to gingerly finger the sore spot behind his ear. "That's reassuring..."

" _Don't question me!"_ the prince spat, whirling to face him again. " _Never_  question me."

He raised an eyebrow at that, then winced when the prince pressed his shoulder down into the bed again, fingernails digging his tender skin. The movement unbalanced him and he fell back against the bed. He felt the air leave his lungs with the force of the impact. Arienkhut glared down at him for a moment, then his gaze began to drift. With visible effort, he wrenched himself away from Kian again, turning his back on him.

"My apologies," Arienkhut muttered, shoulders shuddering. Kian watched him carefully, gingerly touching his throat. "I... should not treat you like this. It's inappropriate." The Ralendran prince clear his throat, dragging his fingers through the feathers on his head. He chuckled darkly. "The physician would throttle me..."

He seemed to struggle for control for a moment, then straightened up a little more. Kian exhaled carefully, wincing. His throat was sure to be bruised later. He cleared throat, trying to suppress the ache rising in it. Arienkhut did not turn to look at him. Kian took that as a small mercy. "Why am I still here then? Other than at your father's order."

The question seemed to catch the Ralendran prince off-guard, for he turned to raise an eyebrow at him. " _Your family_ \--and by extension,  _Istaqa_ \--still has a debt to pay to us. A tribute, if you will, to keep your kingdom in Ralendra's good graces." Arienkhut snorted and looked away again. "Do you really think our fathers would risk this uneasy peace between us for one stupid girl?"

Kian scowled at him. "Careful. That 'girl' is my sister."

Arienkhut spared him a dark glower. "She is still stupid. If she'd succeeded in keeping my attention, in  _taming_ me," he said, almost spitting the word 'taming' at him, "then she could have been the next Ralendran Empress, Kianoush."

"Kian," he corrected automatically, without truly thinking it through. The prince's words echoed his own thoughts from when he'd been kneeling in the throne room. "And you have a point. She's a moron." He sighed and gingerly lowered himself back to the bed, keeping have an eye on the other man. "But why take  _me?_ "

At first, Arienkhut didn't seem to feel like responding, and then he sighed heavily. "The treaty states 'any child born of Istaqa's Royal line', if memory serves me right," he said, quoting the treaty in question. "I think you know what that means..."

Kian frowned, and asked, "And if I don't succeed in 'taming' you?" 

Arienkhut shrugged, turning around to face him and leaning back on the windowsill. "Then you are retired to the Blue Harem," the prince told him, "which would make you mine regardless. Although, perhaps Kasaika, my brother, would be curious enough to pay you a visit."

He wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. To be part of the prince's Harem, there to be available for whomever wished to use him? At their beck and call, no matter the time? Kian wasn't sure if he wanted that. He wasn't sure if he could even like it... He rubbed a hand over his face and shifted his gaze to the ceiling. When it was clear that he didn't plan on saying anything more to that, Arienkhut pushed off the windowsill and strode from the room, leaving Kian alone to ponder his potential fate.

 

**_Arienkhut left him alone_ **  to the physician's mercies. Kian wasn't sure if he should be  _thankful_ for that or not, but at least--after several hours--the grouchy old healer had allowed him to get up. Which lead to Kian pacing the room in quite a nasty mood. He wasn't used to having his movements restricted, and he'd been told in very clear terms to stay in his room. He was not to wander. Kian scowled, pacing back over to the window and peering out. 

There was a courtyard below, small but high-walled with a lovely selection of flowers and a couple of trees; a low willow tree, branches swaying, and a tall, thick cherry tree, heavy with blossoms. He decided he hated it, regardless of how nice and inviting it looked. There were a handful of men and women in the courtyard, all dressed in pale colours--mostly dressed in purple or red or black--and watching a handful of children running circles around them. The childrens' laughter and squealing made his head ache, but Kian couldn't help watching them. These had to be members of the Emperor's Harem. 

There was only one person wearing blue, and they stood a little apart from the rest. He could only just make out them out between the branches of the willow, could only just see the distrustful look they kept shooting the other members of the Harem. He squinted, trying to make out the person's face. It wasn't just distrust, but also distaste. Apparently they didn't like their position, much the same as him. Was this one of the Crown Prince's Harem?

Suddenly, they looked up, directly at his window and scowled. Kian pulled back as if he'd been struck. He touched his lips, wincing as his fingers brushed over the split in his bottom lip and then slid his fingers up to his cheek, eyes still on the window, unfocused. Did he look that bad? Kian shook his head and turned away from the window. He can't have looked that bad. Maybe they just didn't want him watching the other concubines and the children?

Kian scowled, pacing away from the window. He caught up a pillow and tossed it at the wall, dissatisfied with the small, pitiful thud it made against the latticework. He wanted out of the room, preferably now. Kian searched for something else to toss at the wall, and grew frustrated when he found nothing. He turned the room upside down, and still found nothing--not even the pallet, which had been removed once he had been deemed fit enough to move about. They had even taken his hidden dagger, the one he kept strapped to his ankle. 

Cursing, he sat down on the soft silks set to one side of the room on a raised portion of the floor, tugging a pillow close to him. He stared down at his hands for a moment, noting the slight scraping across the backs of them, across his knuckles. He'd punched the wall earlier, too--more than once--which explained those. Kian sighed, reaching up to drag his fingers through his hair, rubbing at he sore spot behind his ear carefully. Right now, he truly hated his sister. She was selfish and immature. Who just runs off with some stupid bard?

Footsteps outside the door brought his head up. Kian glowered at the guard with the stupid braid as the man pushed the doors opened and stepped into the room. The man ignored him, turning towards the doorway and bowing lowly. Kian's gaze darted towards the doorway and he froze. The Emperor was standing there, dark eyes flickering over him assessingly. Again, he forgot to drop his gaze and did so a little too late. He'd seen the old man's eyes narrow almost dangerously.

"Ah," the Emperor said, and there was the soft swishing of fabric as he entered the room. Kian knew the older man would see the mess that he'd made of the room. He didn't care. Mostly. Of course, there was a small kernel of fear deep down in his chest, but he found it easy to push aside. Enough so that he didn't even show the man proper respect and stayed exactly where he was. "I see my son was telling me the truth. You are awake." One long, sweeping sleeve brushed over Kian's bare foot. He jerked it back. "And you are, quite clearly, unhappy. May I ask why?"

He frowned. The Emperor didn't have to ask. He could have demanded the answer, and Kian would have had no choice but to give him one. That he'd asked... Kian took a deep breath, gaze flickering up to watch the Emperor from beneath lowered eyelashes as the man inspected the room.

"Wouldn't you be unhappy if you were removed from your home by force and taken to a foreign kingdom, only to be told you would be sent to their Harem until further notice?" he asked, completely disregarding honourifics for the moment. "Would you also not be mad to be told that you were not to leave your room, until further notice?"

The Emperor's gaze flickered towards him. The guard by the door tensed, as if ready to spring into action, but one gesture from the older man had the other man stilling. Kian met the Emperor's gaze briefly before swiftly dropping his eyes to the floor. Suddenly, there was a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye and the swish of red silk, and then there was a hand beneath his chin. The Emperor forced his head up, dark eyes narrowed dangerously again.

"You don't want to be here, is that it?" the older man asked, tone dangerously low. Kian felt a trickle of fear and anticipation slide down his spin, but the older man did nothing but look at him. "This would not have happened if your sister was where she should have been when my soldiers came for her." The Emperor snorted and turned his head to one side. "She was  _not_ at the palace with your parents, but my men were directed towards your little house on the coast. Care to tell me  _why_  you were not in the palace as you should have been?"

"I have no interest in the Istaqan throne," Kian spat, wincing as the Emperor's thumb pressed against his bruised cheekbone. The older man turned his face the other way, gaze assessing again. Kian felt distinctly like a bug beneath a scholar's needle. 

" _Why_ ?"

He shrugged. "I have no interest in the Istaqan throne."

It was the truth, but he doubted the Emperor would believe him. After all, why would a prince forsake all the luxuries of Royalty for the simple life of a common soldier? After what his parents had pretended not to see, after his years spent in the army and the harsh training for his role as Istaqa's future king, why would he stay? Why, indeed. Kian tried not to let the Emperor see the abuse he'd suffered, tried not to give him anything to work with, but he wasn't sure it was enough.

The Emperor sighed and shoved him backwards, releasing him to straighten up. Kian sprawled out on the silks. The older man just watched him a moment longer before he snorted and swung back towards the door. The guard perked up, glancing towards him as Kian gently touched his stinging cheek. At the door, the Emperor paused, glancing back at him. "You're an interesting one, Kianoush Ea Istaqanat. You should match my son well." And with that, he swept out of the room.

The guard lingered for a moment, gazing after the Emperor before he gave Kian a stern look. He didn't say anything as he followed the Emperor out and pulled the doors shut behind him. Kian stared longingly at the doors for a moment before he sighed and pushed back up into a sitting position. He tore his gaze off them and resigned himself to a long night of isolation and frustration.


	4. Four

**Four**

**_Arien lounged on the cushions_ **  set out on the dais, gaze darting over the dining hall. It was fairly quiet, the low murmur of the nobility below unlikely to bother him. He couldn't relax, though, not when he knew that most of them hated him--or, at least, the way he looked. He almost-- _almost_ \--touched the feathers on his head, self-conscious. At least they weren't paying attention to the mostly empty dais yet. Father had yet to join him, neither had Mother and Arien had no idea where his siblings were. 

Kian, though... Well, he was still safely locked away in the Urdin Room, and not likely to be invited to a banquet yet. It had been a few days since Arien had last seen him--and even then, that had been through one of the latticed walls of the small bathing room that sat between his room and the other prince's. Arien resisted the urge to run a hand over his face, forcing himself to lounge deceptively lazily amongst the jewel-bright pillows behind him, all in shades of blue. He was Ralendra's Crown Prince, despite being three years younger than Kasaika. If he was tired, he could not show it, not to the vultures that were the Ralendran Court.

As if summoned, Kasaika sat down beside him, smiling and with drink in hand. Arien eyed the dark liquid in his brother's goblet with some distaste. "Is that mead, brother?" he asked, and scowled when Kasaika gave him a secretive little smirk. "Honestly..."

"Don't tell anyone," his brother mock-whispered, turning to scan the crowd. Arien did the same. The dining hall was a swirl of colour, mostly in bold gem-like shades. Except the Emperor's deep purple and gold, and Arien's own royal ocean blue. Kasaika sighed and took a sip of his foul drink. "I don't see your new pet around."

"That's because he's still safely secured in his room." Arien shot his brother a dark look, then turned to look out over the room again. A few of the men and women below swiftly turned their gazes elsewhere. But Arien saw the suspicion in their eyes when they thought he wasn't watching. "Father didn't want to risk his temper in a public setting just yet."

"Ah, I heard about that." Kasaika's tone was subdued, but he was clearly amused. Of course, that might not mean anything. Arien glanced towards him again, tilting his head slightly as if to imply that he was waiting for more. "He curses up a storm, too." His brother smirked, laughter dancing in his eyes when their gazes met. "He startled Joren the other day. I've never seen him so disturbed."

Joren was Kasaika's concubine, a pretty man with long black hair and startling amber-brown eyes. Arien had been envious of his brother the day he'd been gifted Joren, but that day was long past. "Nothing startles Joren," Arien muttered, eyes widening the slightest bit. Kasaika laughed. "What is it about Kian that startles him so?"

"I have no idea. Joren refuses to speak about it." His brother shrugged casually, as if it didn't matter at all. But Arien knew better. He watched his older brother for a moment with narrowed eyes. Kasaika glanced towards him and blinked. "What?"

He debated with himself over voicing the statement he really wished to say-- _perhaps he feels threatened_ \--but then shook his head and looked away. He wouldn't do that to his brother, nor to Joren. "Nothing."

His thoughts drifted towards Kian again, and he nearly missed the arrival of his father. The sudden silence in the room was apparent and he turned his head to see Father taking a seat to his and Kasaika's right. The Emperor was dressed in deep red with a thin, almost transparent purple jacket over the top. Arien watched his father closely as the older man took his seat and clapped once.

A servant appeared at the Emperor's side and poured him a drink of deep red wine. A beat later, conversation resumed across the room, though curious eyes kept darting up to the dais and away again. Arien watched his father for a moment longer before turning his attention to the low table in front of them. He'd deliberately chosen a seat on the far left of his father so that he might escape the banquet early.  _If_ he was allowed to.

"How goes the treaty with Rhoassi?" the Emperor asked, voice soft. Beside him, Kasaika flinched. Arien turned slowly to watch his father and brother interact. "Kasaika, I am asking you a question."

Kasaika straightened up slightly, turning to give their father an unreadable look. "It goes... slowly, Father," he muttered, hiding his grimace in his drink. "Their demands are a little unreasonable." Arien raised an eyebrow. His brother glanced towards him and they exchanged a loaded look. "Istaqa, on the other hand, are far more reasonable about their treaty."

"Ah, yes," their father said, chuckling a little. He picked up his drink and took a sip from it, hiding his wicked smirk in the goblet. Arien did not like the look that his father sent his way. He stiffened, eyes narrowing. Of course, none of the nobles enjoying the banquet below seemed to notice--or care. "Of course they are. We have their prince after all."

He wanted to say ' _against his will_ ', but Arien knew that would anger their father and probably cause a delighted murmur to pass through the gathered nobles. He bit his tongue in that respect and softened his gaze, trying to appear as amused as possible. "He's... quite entertaining," he said carefully, watching his father's face. For a moment, there was sly humour in the Emperor's dark gaze before it became curiously blank. Arien lifted one shoulder. He hated what he said next, but he had a reputation to uphold. A  _cruel_  one. "I'm just waiting to see how long it takes before he starts begging for attention."

The Emperor's laugh could not be hidden this time, and it turned all heads in their direction. Arien raised his eyebrows at his father but otherwise controlled any other reaction. Between them, Kasaika was frowning into his drink. "I hope you enjoy him, then."

Carefully, Arien turned away and picked up his own goblet. He glared at the murky, sludge-like liquid and immediately put it down. It smelt foul, like decades sour wine, and he decided that he wasn't going to drink it. "Oh, I intend to," he muttered, and then turned to flag down a servant to request fresh wine. They stared at him blankly for a moment before picking up the goblet and disappearing around the back of the dais. When he turned back, his father was watching him. "What?"

"Something wrong with the wine, Arienkhut?"

He shrugged. "I preferred the one we had last time, Father. It was sweeter."

The Emperor chuckled again and turned away. Arien felt himself fade from the centre of attention and let out a slow, relieved breath. His brother glanced his way briefly before returning his attention to his disgusting mead. The servant returned eventually, this time with wine that did not smell sour or foul. He took a sip and nodded. The servant disappeared again. 

Over the course of the next hour or two, he drank the wine slowly and made sure it was not more than the one drink for the entire night. He had never been happier to know that the servants understood his desires when it came to alcohol. Arien was no heavy drinker, nor was he a light one. He could handle his wine; he just didn't like drinking as much as the rest of the Ralendran Court did.

After another half-hour, once the last of the food had been served, he rose from his seat and moved towards the stairs down off the dais. Father caught his hand as he passed behind him, making Arien look down. He kept his gaze mostly blankly, betraying only a glint of the tiredness he'd been feeling all night. The Emperor peered up at him with an equally blank mask, though it was rough around the edges with drink.

"Yes, Father?" he asked, blinking slowly down at him.

"Are you retiring?" the Emperor queried, smiling slightly. There was an edge to his voice, hinting at something like amusement. Arien sighed.

"Yes."

With a little smirk, his father released him. "Have fun."

He nodded curtly and continued on his way, not glancing back until he was in the safety of the alcove that led to the stairs. The Emperor was smiling slightly, focused on the room before him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, just watching them all before finally pushing off it and slipping away down the hall to the stairs. He took them two at a time until he emerged in the main hall of the Blue Harem, turning a corner and striding right up to the blue doors of Kianoush's room. 

Arien gently pushed one open, nodding to the guards standing on either side of the doorway before slipping inside. He made sure the doors were closed before he turned to face the room. Kian was still asleep, sprawled out over the silks with his head resting on pillow. Arien could see him quite clearly, even in the darkened room. The Istaqan Prince looked far more relaxed than he had when Arien had spied on him a few days ago. Kian, when he wasn't angry and pacing, was rather pleasing to look at. Again, Arien was tempted to touch--and again, he forced himself not to.

He sighed, watching the other prince sleep for several minutes before he gave in to the temptation and put one knee on the low bed, leaning over to trail his fingers lightly over the fading bruise on Kian's cheek.


	5. Five

  **Five**

**Kian startled awake with a tiny gasp,** grabbing for the thing touching his face. He blinked slowly as he felt his hand close over warm skin, feeling bones shift beneath it as the person--because of course it was a person--aborted their little move to jerk away from him. His other hand slid beneath the pillow, searching for a knife that would not be there. He calmed after a moment, and found himself staring up into the Crown Prince's shadowy face, eyes lit from within and moonlight glinting blue-green-purple-silver off his feathers. The other man's lips were pressed into a tight line, free hand resting on the bed beside his head. He quickly averted his gaze, muttering an apology, though he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of Arienkhut just yet.

"No," the Ralendran Prince murmured, moving back a little as if to give him room. "I should apologize. I entered your room without permission."

He frowned, eyeing the other man in the dark. Arienkhut was strange, and he just kept getting stranger. Why would he need permission? The other man practically owned him right now. Kian was no stranger to slavery, and he knew his imprisonment in the Prince's Harem for what it was. Slavery. Most likely to keep his family in line. He sighed and released Arienkhut's wrist, letting his arm flop down onto the bed.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly, resolutely not looking at the other man. The Ralendran Prince had every right to be in his room right now. Hadn't he said as much just the other day? Kian pushed the thought from his mind, gaze darting towards the doors.

"Nothing," the Crown Prince hissed, and made to shift away. Kian pushed up onto a elbow, boldly meeting his gaze as soon as the other man had given him the room to do so. "I was just leaving."

He grabbed the other prince's wrist again before he could get too far. "No," he said sternly, tightening his hold on his wrist. Kian frowned at him again, tilting his head. He couldn't quite see as much in the dark right now, and Arienkhut's face was hard to make out. "Tell me why you're in my room."

"No." This time, the Crown Prince jerked his wrist out of Kian's hand. He straightened up and strode over to the doors, cracking them open. Light filtered into the room, highlighting Arienkhut standing in the doorway--and then he was gone and the door was closed again, plunging him into darkness again.

Kian stared at the door a little longer, then shook his head and lay back down. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment and then closed his eyes. Sleep, though, was slow in coming--and he ended up kicking the sheet off of him and rolling to put his back to the door. He'd finally just managed to drift off when there was a slight noise in the room, a scuffing sound like someone's boot had slipped across the marble floor. He froze, tensing up on the bed.

There was silence for several minutes, then the soft sound of metal scraping against metal. Kian rolled to look at the room. For a moment, he thought it was empty--but then he spotted a dark shape near the latticed wall to the right. They were quite obviously focused on their task and hadn't yet noticed that he was awake.

He shifted on the bed slowly, trying not to make noise as he planted his bare feet on the floor. The rustle of silk gave him away and the dark shape shifted, turning towards him. For the longest moment, neither of them moved, and then the figure lunged towards him. Kian pushed off the bed, ducking under the dark line--darker than the room--that whistled towards his head. Of course the damn intruder had a weapon.

"Bastard," he grunted, twisting to face the intruder. There was no doubt in his mind that they were an assassin. But who had they been sent after? He kept his voice low, eyes narrowed at the almost silent figure turning to face him. "What are you doing in my room?"

He was not surprised when they refused to answer him, and instead swept forwards again. Kian ducked under another swung, lunging forwards to tackle them to the ground. There was a loud, metallic clatter as the weapon slid across the floor. It'd been knocked out of their hand as they'd crashed into the floor. The figure struggled for a moment, hooking a leg around his to try and unbalance him. 

Kian ground his teeth together and grabbed for their wrists. He copped an elbow to the shoulder for his trouble, and then there were fingers scrambling at his face. Gloved fingers. Definitely an assassin. There was the soft sound of leather and metal, and then a sharp stinging sensation across his arm. Kian finally managed to grab a wrist and wrenched the dagger out of their hand. 

He'd just pressed it against their throat when the doors opened and the guards surged into the room. Kian glanced back to find them hesitating just inside the room. "A little help?" he grunted as a knee connected with his side. He twisted, pressing the blade down harder. "Stop moving, you little shit."

The assassin froze, and Kain finally got a good look at them. It was a bloody woman. Kian stared and then pushed off of her, keeping the dagger between them. "You moron," she hissed, tugging at the cloth hanging off her face. "I'm not here to kill you!"

"Seriously?" he asked as the guards moved into the room. 

They towered over her, swords pointed at her throat. He snorted and shook his head, watching as they dragged the assassin to her feet and out of the room. One returned a few minutes later to collect her weapons. They stopped in front of him. "Dagger," the guard hissed and Kian handed it over without protest, holding up his hands. "Stay here."

Kian twisted to watch the guard leave and scowled when he saw Arienkhut standing in the doorway. "What?" he snapped, and the Crown Prince's eyes narrowed. "Thought I'd be stupid and try to keep it?"

"No," Arienkhut muttered, leaning against the door frame. He was dressed only in soft, white cotton sleeping pants and a flimsy, transparent robe of pale blue. "Just wondering what you were doing with a female assassin in your room."

He snorted and climbed to his feet, dusting himself off. Not because he was dirty, but because it gave him something to do other than look at the other man. "What makes you think I was going to do anything?" he asked, turning towards the doors. He gestured towards the wall she'd been crouched by. "Why don't you take another look at the room, perhaps at what  _else_   she might've been doing in here?"

The Crown Prince's expression went curiously blank as he stepped into the room and turned his gaze on the latticed wall to Kian's right. Arienkhut studied the wall from a moment then strode forwards, crouching to pick something up. Kian watched as he sat there for a moment, pale blue chiffon shifting across his shoulders. 

"Ah, I see," Arienkhut muttered, rising carefully. "She attempted to get into my room through our connected bathing room." He snorted, fingers tightening around what he held.

"If you're done," Kian hissed, "would you get out?"

Arienkhut smirked at him and slowly wandered back over to the doors. "As you wish, Kian," he said and swept out. He pulled the doors closed behind him, plunging Kian back into darkness. Kian stood there a moment longer and then scowled and stalked over to the window, leaning against the wall beside it. 

The idea of a shared bathing room bothered him. Arienkhut had access to his room regardless, but the very thought of  _sharing_ ... He shook his head, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. And there was no way he'd be able to go back to sleep now. First, his family betrayed him, then he was made a prisoner in a foreign kingdom and now someone tried to kill him? Granted, they were probably trying to kill the Crown Prince first, but still... What was going on in the palace? There was obviously more going on in the Ralendra Court than what he saw on its opulent surface. He'd have to start paying more attention.


	6. Six

**Six**

**_The assassin was already_ **  before his father when Arien entered the throne room. The Emperor was leaning forwards in his throne, eyes narrowed dangerously and dressed only in a pair of hastily pulled on pants. Arien could tell because his father was almost always impeccably dressed. He glided to a stop at his father's side and held out the lock-picks. The Emperor glanced at him and plucked the small metal tools out of his hand. 

 

"I found these when I checked the room," he said, keeping half an eye on the assassin and the rest on his father. She had struggled with the guards a little when he'd entered and had now gone very still as she spotted her lock-picks. Arien smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I believe she was attempting to break into my room through my concubine's." He tilted his head to study her thoughtfully. "She probably intended to sneak through the bathroom and wanted to, most likely, slit my throat while I slept."

"Did she now?" his father murmured, studying the tools in his hand. He tossed them down onto the floor to join the assassin's sword and dagger. They hit a step on the way down and then clattered to a stop between the assassin's weapons. Arien followed the lock-picks as they made their way down and settled. "That was not a wise thing to do, girl." She spat at them, the spit landing somewhere near her dagger. His father's gaze narrowed even more and he leaned back in the throne, drawling in a slightly bored tone; "That was also not wise."

"Does it look like I care about being wise anymore?" she hissed, glaring up at them. Arien snorted and shook his head, casting his father an unreadable glance. She had such hatred for them, but she was rather pretty now that she wore nothing to cover her head or face. A pity, really... "Of course I was there to kill you! You're a monster! A beast--"

The guard on the right jerked her head back by the hair, cutting her off mid-rant. "Shut up."

Arien uncrossed his arms and swept down the threes steps to stand before her, leaning in close. He planted his hands on his hips, letting her see him up close and personal. "That's right," he hissed, feeling anger that was not entirely his own welling up from deep within his chest. "I  _am_ a monster, and do you know what monsters do to stupid little girls who get caught?" He paused, waiting for a reaction from her. She flinched backwards and he thought he caught the stench of fear from her. He knew she saw his eyes glow; he'd seen it once himself, in the mirror. "They  _eat_ them."

"Arienkhut." The Emperor gave a long-suffering sigh and he pulled back, returning to his position beside the throne. His father gave him a stern look and Arien scowled, looking away from her slightly. "She's quite secure, my son. There is no need to threaten her so." Arien snorted again and brought his gaze back to rest on her. He nodded to his father and settled in to wait. "Now." His father's gaze swung back to the girl. "What makes you think you can attack the Emperor and his family? What makes you think you can  _plot against us_ , hm?"

She lifted her chin and smirked at them. Arien noted the growing bruise across her jaw. One of the guards must've gotten sick of her venomous prattle and smacked her  _before_ he'd entered the room. "The prince is  _not_ the chosen one. He is an  _abomination_ ." She grinned as them, a slightly crazed shine to her eyes. "He is not favoured or beloved; he is  _cursed_ and deserves to die."

_Great_ , he thought, eyeing her warily.  _She was a fanatic_ and  _a heretic._

His father sighed again, this time sounding rather tired, as if he'd had a very similar conversation with a thousand different people. Which was very likely to be the case. Arien glanced towards his father, slightly concerned but the Emperor just gestured for him to remain where he was and fixed the girl with a dark, intense look. "Who do you work for?"

"I am an agent of the shadows," she growled, gaze darting past them. She nodded to someone over Arien's shoulder before meeting his gaze directly, completely ignoring the Emperor. "We work for no one and everyone. Good luck trying to find us, Favoured One, for we are the spirits of death, and we shall come for you all."

Somewhere behind him, there was a creak and then a soft noise. Suddenly something was whistled through the air. Arien twisted out of the way just in time, ducking to crouch on the floor. But they hadn't been aiming for him. He looked towards the girl and found her sagging between the two guards, a small dart with black and grey feathers attached to the end sticking out of her throat. She smirked at him until the life left her eyes.

"Well," his father said, pushing up of his seat. "That was rather enlightening."

"What?" Arien scoffed, straightening up. He readjusted his robe and brushed a hand over his head, fingernails scraping across the feathers he knew would always be there. "The fact that someone is quite blatantly trying to kill me?"

The Emperor just looked at him. "I saw you send away your first cup of wine, Arien," he said softly, and took a few steps towards him. Arien stilled when his father cupped his cheek, expression as blank as he'd ever seen it. "This is now thrice in one night, my son. We need to take the threat seriously." The Emperor turned to sneer down at the now dead assassin, tone as venomous as hers had been a few moments earlier. "String her up over the palace gates. Let her serve as a warning to those who would defy me."

The guards nodded and dragged the girl from the room.  _Twice_ , Arien wanted to say, because that last time... They most definitely had not been aiming for him. He sighed and watched his father retreat from the room. There was no point in arguing with him, not when the old man's mind was as set on something as it seemed to be. Shaking his head, Arien turned and headed back to his room.


	7. Seven

**Seven**

**_The only way Kian could tell_ **  the time was by the prompt arrival of food or servants. He would usually wake to find a plate set down on the low table situated on the other side of the room or to a servant just closing the door. Sometimes they didn't come at all, but for the past week, he'd developed a routine. He stuck to the window when they came, watching them from the corner of his eyes as they left the food and took the previous plate away. The first day he'd woken up, after the physician had given him leave to move, he'd tossed the plate at the wall. The next day had been the same, but the one after that... He'd had to eat, and so he did.

_And this morning is no different,_   he thought, glancing out onto the courtyard as he waited for the tell-tale footsteps of the servant to approach. It had been two days since the incident with the assassin, and things had been fairly quiet. He did not stay near the window, though, but turned towards the door as it opened. The servant didn't look at him as she swept into the room and set the plate on the table. This time, it came with a pitcher and a goblet. He frowned, pushing off the windowsill to approach her.

"I get alcohol now?" he asked, making her yelp and nearly drop the pitcher she was holding. She recovered a moment later and began to pour a drink for him. As it was, he'd startled her enough to make her spill it, and the dark, slightly thick wine was pooling on the table. She didn't try to clean it up, and Kian frowned at the texture of the wine. "My, I must be special if I'm allowed to get drunk."

"You're to be the Favoured One's consort," the servant muttered, keeping her gaze on her hands. She kept her tone low and soothing. "Of course you're special."

He snorted, giving her a quick once over. She was rather pretty in a plain sort of way, but he wasn't interested. He was rarely interested, to be honest. From the corner of his eye, he saw the guard by the door stiffen at his post, hand straying to the sword on his hip. Kian looked up at him and sighed, holding his hands up to show that he wasn't a threat. The guard did not relax. He had no intention of touching the girl, nor running away. What would he run away to? A throne he didn't want? A dying kingdom he had no interest in ruling? 

"I'm not that special," he muttered and turned away to look at the plate, keeping half an eye on the guard. The servant didn't reply. The guard, though, did not relax until the servant had finished pouring him his drink and stepped back out into the hall. Kian was surprised to find that they left the doors open. He looked from the plate to the wine to the doors and back.  _That was..._ interesting, he thought and sat down at the table, cross-legged.

He eyed the split wine warily and picked the goblet up first, taking an experimental sniff. He abruptly gagged. It smelt foul, and from the way it looked split across the table, it was definitely not good wine. He set the wine aside and eyed the food. If the wine was any indication, he would think they were  _trying_ to kill him. But so far, his food had remained untainted. Kian glanced towards the wine again and shoved the plate away. The assassin in his room? Now this? 

"Is there a problem with the food?" someone asked from the doorway, startling him. Kian turned towards the door, eyes narrowed. The man lounging in the doorway, completely ignoring the guards glaring at him, was a stranger to him. He wore a typical soldier's uniform, though the coat was in pale blue with silver edgings. Not  _just_ a soldier, then. 

He twisted to put an elbow on the table and planted his chin in his hand. "Who might you be?" he asked, taking in the dark hair and just as dark eyes. He reminded Kian of Arienkhut, if the Crown Prince weren't covered in feathers. "And no, I have no problems with the food. Just your staff."

"Kasaika," the man offered, not moving at inch. "Our staff, hmm? What kind of problem?"

Kian snorted and gestured to the wine with his free hand. "Like the fact that they think serving soured wine to a guest is perfectly acceptable?"

For a beat, the man did nothing, but then he frowned. "What?" he demanded, and pushed off the door-frame, striding over to him. When he crouched to peer down into the pitcher of wine, he swore. "Well, I'll be damned. You're right."

Smirking, Kian turned his face away. "Given the state of the wine," he said carefully and wiped the smirk off his face before giving the plate a gentle nudge, "I'm not inclined to trust the food, either." And it was nice food, too; freshly baked bread, neatly sliced fruit and what looked to be deliciously broiled meat. Kian slanted the other man--Kasaika--a sly look. "Is the Crown Prince that desperate to get rid of me?"

Kasaika snorted in amusement. "Oh, trust me," the other man said, picking up the pitcher to give it a sniff. He grimaced and jerked his face away from it. "He's not trying to get rid of you, Kianoush."

He flinched and sat back, eyeing the man thoughtfully for a moment. What gave him the right to speak to him without honourifics? Kian might not want his kingdom or its throne, but that didn't mean that just anyone could speak to him like that. Alright, maybe he was being a litte arrogant, but he at least deserved some respect. "You're not afraid that I'll get angry because you didn't call me 'your highness', huh?"

"Why should I?" Kasaika asked, setting the pitcher down again. "I'm speaking to an equal."

Kian frowned. "You're...also part of the Harem?"

"No," the other man chuckled softly and stood up. "I'm the Crown Prince's brother." Kasaika shrugged and moved around the table, taking a seat opposite him. Kian turned to watch him as the other man gestured to the guards and leaned back on his hands, gaze suddenly focused on him. He felt uncomfortable with the scrutiny.  "You look exhausted."

He leaned back, eyeing the other man carefully. Kasaika, if he was to be believed, was Arienkhut's brother, which would also mean he was a prince of Ralendra. That was a little tidbit of information he hadn't known. "I think you would be, too, if you were being held against your will."

Kasaika raised an eyebrow at him. The Ralendran prince eyed him carefully for a moment and Kian eyed him back, giving the other man an unreadable look. "Held against your will," the other man repeated slowly, all traces of smiles and humour gone. "Is that what you think?"

Kian shrugged, gaze dropping to the table again. He pulled his chin out of his hand and lowered his arm to the table, picking at a tiny dent in the surface. "I don't know what to think anymore to be perfectly honest," he muttered, unable to keep the sour note out of his voice. The last thing he'd been expecting was to be kidnapped and told he was to be a slave,  _or else._  And all of it to  _keep his parents in line_ . He glanced up, suddenly unsure.

"Then stop thinking," Kasaika suggested with a shrug. He climbed to his feet, sparing Kian an unreadable look once he was standing. "I'll speak to the palace staff about this, preferably  _before_ my brother hears about it and decides to slaughter half the staff again." 

He choked on his own tongue, staring at Kasaika as the man nodded to him and strode for the door. He could  _not_ be serious about that. Kian shifted way from the table, watching the other man's back as Kasaika passed through the doorway. The guards watched him a little longer before turning to face the hall--and the temptation of the open doors was _right there_ .

Freedom was just a handful of feet away. There were only two guards, lightly armed--sword and dagger, if he wasn't mistaken--and lightly armoured. He could take them. Kian shifted slightly, trying not to make any noise and attract attention. He hesitated. Was he really willing to risk bringing the entire Ralendran Empire's fury down on his kingdom, his family? The commonfolk he related to far better than the vicious, backstabbing Royal Court of Istaqa?

He deflated, turning his gaze away from the doors. He couldn't do that, not to the commoners of Istaqa. His family, of course, could go to hell. Melancholy settled heavily over his shoulders and his shoved the plate further away to lean on the table, chin resting on his folded arms. He'd heard rumours about the Ralendran Crown Prince before, of course he had. He just hadn't paid much attention to those rumours. And it seemed they were true, at least in part. 

Kian blow out a slow breath, eyes darting towards the doorway again. One of the guards had turned to watch him, casually leaning against the doorframe. The bastard was smirking at him. He returned his gaze to the plate across from him, glaring at the food on it. It was probably cold by now and not worth even picking at. He still wasn't sure if it was tainted or not, like the wine appeared to be. Something about that was truly bothering him. The Ralendran Court definitely had a darker undertone to it than the Istaqan one.


	8. Eight

**Eight**

**_Arien watched from the shadows_** of an alcove as his brother sauntered out of his new slave's room. He scowled, dark, possessive jealousy growing, as he watch Kasaika disappear around a corner. One of the guards had his back to the hall, while the other seemed content to ignore the open doors behind them. That had been his idea, to test the Istaqan prince. Kian had decided not to try for the doors. He silently approved. At least the other man was aware of where he stood and wasn't being utterly stupid about it.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, digging fingers into his feathers and turning to rest his forehead again the cool stone wall beside him. The dark possessiveness was eating away at him from the inside, and he had to spend a moment to calm himself. He'd overheard the conversation Kian had had with his brother, had heard what Kas had said about him. He had, indeed, slaughtered half the staff. Granted, it was just the kitchen staff, but still... Had Kasaika scared his little tiger? He would need to find out, but first... Well, first, he was going to have a word or two with his brother.

Scowling at his behaviour, he pushed off the wall and followed after his brother. He would speak to Kian later. He glanced back over his shoulder at the doorway and the two guards, and into the room beyond them. Kian was staring moodily at the table, head resting on his folded arms. He looked so dejected, so lonely. Arien forced himself to look away.

He found Kasaika in the kitchens, yelling at the staff. When they noticed Arien standing in the doorway, they all froze with terrified expressions on their faces. He gave them all a blank look, turning to face his brother. Father had better teach them some manners.

"What's going on here, brother?"

Kasaika hesitated, glancing towards the staff. No doubt worried about them. Arien raised an eyebrow and waited. His brother stared back. The silence dragged on and on, heavy and pregnant with potential violence. 

Eventually, Arien sighed. "I promise I won't kill anyone here," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and giving the assembled dozen or so kitchen staff before them. " _Unless_  they're guilty--and believe me when I say that I can  _smell it._ "

Collectively, the staff tensed up. Kasaika stepped between him and the staff. "All they know is that the wine was retrieved from the family's personal cellar," his brother said lowly, reaching out to place a hand on his chest before rethinking the gesture and pulling his hand back. "Please don't be mad at them. They don't know anything."

Arien took a deep breath, meeting his brother's eyes. "I am  _not_ mad at them, Kas," he whispered, keeping his voice low so the staff hopefully wouldn't hear him. "I  _am_  mad at the  _person who thinks it's fun_  to send assassins after me and poison my wine. Who thinks it's fun to try and kill  _my_ concubine--"

" _Potential_   concubine, Arien."

"Kas." He let out an exasperated sigh. "We've talked about this."

Kasaika smirked. "He's not yours, not yet. Besides, you haven't even decided whether you want to keep him or not."

"Yet, indeed, Kas..." Arien allowed a smirk to creep across his face. "Oh, but he will be  _mine_ . Mark my words."

His brother blinked at him. "That's a very possessive tone you're using."

Arien snorted and brushed past him, eyes scanning over the assembled staff. "We can finish that discussion later, brother." He stepped close to the head chef. The man was trembling. "Now, who would like to explain to me why my potential concubine thinks his food is poisoned? Other than the fact that the wine that came with it was likely to kill him."

It only took them a few minutes to spill all their secrets. None of which were truly helpful, and Arien could smell neither guilt nor deceit on any of them. He fina l ly relented when it was clear that they were just following orders and had no idea that the wine was poisoned. The food, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. When it had left the kitchen, it was fine. According to Kas, it had also looked fine when he checked it out while speaking to Kian--which he still jealous over, to be honest--but did not look tampered with.

To be certain of that, Arien had the cooks prepare a fresh meal. He would take it to Kian himself, after checking it for tampering. That would be unlikely, as he watched it being prepared himself as well. Once that was done, he took the tray from the servant who'd picked it up and led the way back to Kian's room.

The doors were still open when Arien turned into the hall that led to his concubine's room. But something was different. He frowned at the doorway for a moment. Only one guard was present outside the room. The other had taken a step inside and appeared to be speaking to Kian. Arien felt his fury swelling up. He turned to the servant. 

"Come with me," he ordered, and swept down the hall. He hesitated outside the room, eyeing the guard for several minutes as the man grinned at his concubine. Kian had already noticed his presence, and there was a tiny smirk tilting up his lips. After a moment, he cleared his throat. The guard went very still. "What do you think you're doing, Hagar?"

Hagar turned slowly to face him. The man did not bow or show him any of the respect his rank as prince required. Arien's gaze narrowed and he turned to hand the tray off to the servant. "Ah, your highness... I didn't hear you come in."

Arien snorted. "Give this to his highness, please," he said to the servant, ignoring the guard completely. He kept an eye on the plate as the young woman approached the table, as she set it down and began to gather up the untouched plate and the pitcher of wine. "Thank you, Ahura."

The servant bobbed her head and disappeared behind him--presumably through the open doors. Arien exchanged a small glance with Kian before focusing on the guard. Hagar had never been particularly pleasant to be around, and he seemed even less pleasant than Arien had originally thought.

"I shall repeat m y  question, Hagar." He gave the man a stony, angry look. "What do you think you are doing in my concubine's room?"

Hagar smirked at him. "Why should you have all the fun?"

Arien went very still. He could feel the anger building, could feel something else brushing up against him. Something  _Other._ Kian was  _his._ He glanced towards Kian. "Kian," he snapped, " _get out._ "

He didn't look to see if Kian had followed his advice or not. He could barely even wait for the doors to thud closed behind his concubine before launching himself at the man. His vision had gone red-- _red, red, red._  There were dark spots dancing across the edges of his vision and something dark and furious and  _ugly_  was taking him over. Arien didn't even try to fight it. He just tried to remember  _not_ to the kill the bastard of a guard.


	9. Nine

**Nine**

**_The other guard caught him_ **  before he got too far and guided him to the side. They'd already closed the doors so all he could hear was furniture smashing, the guard's pained voice and something else--a sharp cry--that made all the hairs on Kian's arms and the back his neck stand on end. It was a primal, vicious noise, somewhat like a hawk or a falcon when it was hunting. Kian shivered, pressed against the wall several feet from the door. Others in the hall had all come to a stop, eyes trained on the doors to his room.

It was several minutes before the silence descended and several more before the door opened again. Arienkhut stepped out into the hall, appearing relatively unruffled, though there was blood splashed across his robes and face. The expression on his face was nearly blank, devoid of any emotion except anger. Kian did not want that anger directed at him; he'd already had a small taste of it and that was more than enough. Arienkhut's gaze immediately sought out his before the Ralendran Prince stalked over, shoved the guard out of the way and kissed him, pressing Kian back into the wall. After a moment, he pulled back and stalked off down the hall. 

Kian blinked, staring after him. The other man did not look back. Once Arienkhut had rounded a corner and was surely out of hearing range, he turned to the guard. "What in all the hells was that about?"

The guard shrugged. "Beats me," she said and pushed off the wall. "You better stay here." With that, she cautiously approached the door and pushed it open a little further. Kian tried to peek past her, but all he could see was an overturned table, spilled food and what appeared to be blood splattered up the wall. The guard let out a slow breath. "He's alive," she called and everyone seemed to collectively relax. "Damn lucky to be, too. Better get the Emperor. I think we know who was trying to kill the princes now."

Curiousity piqued, Kian pushed off the wall and joined her at the door. Hagar was on the floor, naked and bleeding. There was a growing pool of blood soaking into the rug around him. And written across the man's stomach, nearly eviscerating him, was one word.

_TRAITOR._

"Well," said the guard. "Now we know why His Highness ordered you out, don't we?"

Kian swallowed, fingers brushing over his lips briefly. They came away covered in blood. "I'm not sure if I was meant to see this side of him," he whispered, unable to look away from the word carved into Hagar's skin. " _Ever._ "

The woman clucked her tongue, seemingly ignoring him. "What did he find out that deserved this, Hagar?" she asked, slipping into the room. Kian hesitated in the doorway, finally dragging his gaze off the injured man. His eyes scanned over the room. There was blood  _everywhere_ . What kind of man was Arienkhut Ca Ralen? If he was even a man at all. She suddenly turned towards him. "Your Highness, you had best leave. Ahura will take you to Prince Arienkhut's rooms, if she's still out there."

He paused, hand on the partially opened door. Kian looked from Hagar on the floor to the blood on the walls and even the ceiling. He wasn't sure if he liked that suggestion or not. Arienkhut had just nearly eviscerated a man, and then he kissed him? What in all the hells was wrong with the other prince? Kian took a careful step backwards, out into the hall. "Alright..." He took one last look at Hagar, at the word carved into his stomach, before he turned and fled back into the hall.

Ahura, the servant girl from before, cut him off before he got more than a few steps. He stopped short so he didn't collide with her. "This way, my prince," she said in a very quiet voice, gesturing to her left. He glanced past her at the now-empty hall, then back over his shoulder. "Please, your highness. Or it will be my blood on the floor and walls next."

Kian stared at her. "Is he always that  violent?" he asked, hugging himself. She bobbed her head and turned to her left. Kian sighed and resigned himself to following her.

"Sometimes he is actually rather charming," she muttered as they walked. "For months." She shrugged. "Sometimes, he is angry for no apparently reason for days on end. This was, obviously, not a good day."

He frowned. Something about that didn't quite add up. Sure, he'd only been there about a week, but in all his interactions with Arienkhut, the other man was clearly composed and in control. What had changed? Was it something to do with the wine? The assassin in his room? Frown deepening, he trailed after her and didn't even notice when she herded him into another room. Nor did he notice when she left, closing the door behind her with finality. 

His thoughts circling uselessly, Kian began to pace. He needed to figure it out now. And he hadn't even taken the kiss into consideration, yet. What in the name of the gods had that been about? Kian wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand. He left red smears across it. Had Arienkhut actually just kissed him with blood all over his face? He grimaced and scrubbed at his mouth even more. That was disgusting. 

Kian hadn't been expect affection like that, not after Arienkhut had almost killed a man. He clenched his hands into fists, keeping them at his sides. On one hand, the other man's sudden possessiveness was infuriating--on the other, he actually kind of liked the kiss. He could do with less blood the next time. Not that there would be a next time. Kian would make sure of that. 

Arienkhut had to understand a thing or two. One; Kian was  _not_ there to be his concubine in the full--or  _any--_ sense of the word. And two; he was only there to protect the common folk that were almost like family. He would not let his countrymen suffer while he lived in lux u ry. Not if he could help it. Resolv ing  to ignore the other man's advances, Kian stopped his pacing and settled in to wait.


	10. Ten

**Ten**

**_People scattered before him_ ** \--nobles and servants alike--as he stalked down the hallway, fury etched into his face. Arien knew he was scaring them, but he needed to speak to his father. Preferably now, before he grew too angry again and went back to finish off the infuriating guard. Hagar had been lucky. Whatever lurked deep beneath the surface of Arien's mind had paid heed to his need to keep the man alive. For that, he was grateful, but it was a double-edged blade. He still thrummed with the need to  _kill something._

Perhaps that was why everyone was getting out of his way? Arien didn't know and didn't care. He just needed his father. The Emperor would know what to say, what to do to appease the beast in him. He was brought up short by the appearance of his father in the hall, striding quickly towards him. Arien slowed his pace and waited. Father took one look at him, then glanced about the hall before dragging him through the nearest doorway. Thankfully, the room was empty and would afford them relative privacy.

"Father--"

The Emperor cut him off with a sharp look and turned to close the door in the guards' faces. They appeared rather shocked. Arien was vaguely amused, but too worried about his slow-burning anger and the blood on his face, his robe... His father turned back and gave him a slow, sharp once-over.

"What happened?" he asked quietly and without judgement, nor emotion. "Who did you kill?"

"I haven't killed anyone," he hissed, pacing away from his father for a moment. Absently, he raised a hand to his face and swiped at the blood sticking to his cheek and smeared across his lips. "At least, not yet."

"Then what happened, Arien?"

He turned back slowly, licking his fingers clean before realising what he'd done--and in front of Father, too. Arien grimaced. "I found a traitor. He was in Kianoush's room."

That seemed to take his father by surprise. The Emperor gave him a slow blink. "Who was he?" he asked, arms crossed. "And what makes you think that?"

"Hagar." He winced, looking away but not before he caught the disbelieving look on the Emperor's face. After a moment, Arien dragged his gaze back to his father and forced himself to continue. "And he was taunting my concubine."

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes."

"And this is related to the assassin and the poisoned wine, how?"

"Kianoush's wine was tainted this morning," Arien muttered, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the mentioned prince's room. The Emperor's gaze narrowed, eyes calculating. Arien did not like that look, not at all. That look usually came right before someone was executed. He wet his lips, a little hesitant to say more, but persisting nonetheless. "Kasaika discovered it."

"Did you talk to the staff?"

"Yes, and they offered no leads." He turned away, listing off the events and varous details he had noticed during the morning routine and his discovery in Kian's room. He didn't like speaking so openly or freely around his father, but the Emperor had to know as much as he could remember. "It was when I returned to Kianoush's room with fresh food that I discovered Hagar in the room." He glanced towards Father and found the older man frowning. "Hagar was speaking to him, but I don't know what he said. I'll ask Kianoush." He gestured dismissively, knowing Father would pick up on his lapse in details. He  _would_ be asking Kian what the guard had said later. He was sure it would be quite vulgar and inappropriate. "As for why I think he's a traitor; he outright disrespected my status as Crown Prince and then suggested I share Kianoush." He growled, anger and frustration brewing in his chest. He wanted to lash out, to  _hurt_ something. To maim and kill and hunt. And then to  _lay claim_. He pulled back from the sensations abruptly, confused. He whispered; "He is   _mine_. I do not want to share."

There was a long-suffering sigh from the Emperor. "Arienkhut..."

"I'm not joking or paranoid about this, Father," he hissed, whirling on the older man and slashing a hand through the air. "Someone is trying to kill the both of us, probably to prevent a treaty with Istaqa. We need to take the matter seriously."

"I will." The Emperor paused, gaze narrowed. "You said Hagar is still alive?"

"Yes."

"Good," the Emperor purred, sweeping forwards to take Arien's hands in his. "You can relax. We will get to the truth of this. Perhaps Hagar will spill his secrets before I separate his head from his body."

Arien sagged, relieved. "Thank you, Father."

" _Anything,_ " the older man said, shaking one hand free to reach up and brush some loose hair behind Arien's ear, exposing drying blood and several small scratches across his ear. His tone was calm and soothing, and it settled the Otherness in Arien better than anything else could--except maybe, Kian. "Anything for you, my son. Never fear. I'll make sure all who would defy us either kneel or die."

He swallowed, eyes fixed on his hands where they lay in his father's one. As he watched, the Emperor laid his free hand over them. It made him look up. "Father?"

"You had better go and clean up," the Emperor told him, smiling softly. It was rare for his father to smile, let alone smile like this. Arien took a moment to memorise the expression before he relished in the feeling and averted his gaze. Father's knuckle under his chin guided his head back up. "You were terrifying the servants. Go and change." He sighed and stepped back, disentangling himself from Arien. "Or at least wash your face.

"Yes, Father," he muttered and the Emperor turned to open the door. Arien followed his Father back out into the hall, subdued and quiet. The guards gave him wary looks. He decided to ignore them, instead focusing on Father's back as the Emperor led the way back through the halls to Kian's room.

While the Emperor entered Kian's room, Arien took the opporturnity to slip away. He approached his doors--huge, heavily gold-gilded black marble--and then hesitated. Kian was inside, was probably waiting for him to explain himself, to demand that Arien never touch him--never kiss him--ever again. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He felt conflicted, torn between entering the room and just turning around and leaving. But where would he even go?

"Your Highness?" Arien's eyes flew open and he slide his gaze side-ways. Ahura stood beside him, a fresh set of clothing folded over her arm. "He is asleep if you wish to enter." She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "I believe the excitement was too much for him."

Arien snorted, and gestured to the clothes. "Those for me?" he asked and she bobbed her head. He let his gaze drift back to doors and let it linger. "Thank you." He turned away from his doors and started off down the hall,  Ahura trailing after him. He couldn't stay in his own rooms, not when Kian was in there. He could go to Kasaika. His brother would understand.

 

**_Kasaika's guards were not outside_ ** his room when Arien approached the doors. They were several feet away from the door, and they just watched as he passed between them, Ahura trailing after him. Arien paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder at the servant. He hesitated again, eyeing t h e servant. 

"Stay here," he said and turned his attention back to the door. He didn't bother knocking and just pushed the door open, striding into the room. There was a startled yelp and he stopped short just inside the door. He gaze went unerringly to the bed. "Kasaika."

Joren was straddling Kasaika, long black hair unbound down his bared back. His brother had propped himself up on an elbow, completely ignoring the way his concubine was frozen above him. "Arien," he said, unsurprised. "What brings you here?"

Arien frowned. "I thought you were in the kitchens," he said, tilting his head to the side as Joren scrambled off the bed, pulling the sheet with him. "When did you find the time to convince Joren into bed?"

Kasaika laughed, seemingly immune to the glare his concubine was sending him. "You do realise you were in the kitchens for over an hour, right?"

He went still, gaze darting away from Kasaika's. He appeared to be missing time on top of everything else. "Was I?"

"Yes." His brother seemed amused. Arien averted his gaze. "Why aren't you in your room?"

"Kian is in there," he muttered, and glanced towards Joren. "Did I interrupt something?"

Kas also glanced towards Joren. The concubine was standing stiffly to the side, his back to him. Arien eyed the long dark hair thoughtfully.  _Would Kian grow it out long like that for me?_ he wondered absently, focus drifting.

"Arien, you're staring at my concubine."

Arien flinched, focusing on Kas again. "My apologies," he said, inclining his head towards the other man. "It wasn't my intention."

"Thinking of Kianoush, hmm?"

He smirked. "Perhaps."

Joren snorted, turning to face him. "I don't appreciate the attention," he hissed, and stalked off towards the doors. Arien watched him go. Joren had pulled on one of Kasaika's robes. He frowned at the man until the door closed behind him. With a sigh, Arien turned back to face his brother.

"Did I offend him?" Arien asked, slightly confused. Had he truly offended the man? Was it something he'd said, something he'd done? Was it the blood on his face and clothing? He gave Kas a concerned look. "Kas?"

His brother shook his head. "No," he muttered, frowning at the door. "He's usually a lot more relaxed than that. I don't know what's wrong with him." Kasaika exhaled carefully and met Arien's gaze. He shook his head after a moment and ran a hand over his face before focusing on Arien again. "Why are you here? You said Kian's in your room. Why isn't he in his?"

"I may have.... inadvertently scared him when I attacked Hagar," Arien admitted, gesturing to his face and clothing, "and left his room a bit of a mess."

Kasaika sat up. "What?"

He shrugged. What could he say that hadn't already been said? "I don't think he wants to see me right now, Kasaika," he told his brother with a sharp shake of his head. "I told him to get out....then nearly killed a man....and when I left, I couldn't help it--I kissed him." He stared down at his blood covered hands. " _Without_ permission." He bit his lip, clenching his hands into fists. "I want to be near him so badly....but I cannot. Don't you see, Kas? He's probably scared of me now."

"Alright, you can use my room," his brother said and climbed out of the bed. Thankfully, he was still partially clothed. Kas threw a robe on before crossing over to where Arien stood and taking him by the shoulders. "Kian's tougher than you think. Just give him some time." Kas pulled him into a hug, heedless of the blood drying on his robes or face, on his hands. "You can stay here tonight." His brother gave him a stern sideways look. "I'll join Joren in his room, but you better not still be here come morning."

"Send Ahura in when you leave, please," Arien whispered and Kas pulled back. His brother nodded and released him. With one last look passing between them, Kasaika turned and headed for the door. Arien watched him go, relieved to see Ahura slip in through the door Kas left open. She made sure the door was closed before approaching him.

"Highness, "  she murmured and handed over the clothes. Then she turned and left without another word, leaving him alone in the room. He didn't even get a chance to thank her.

Arien sighed heavily and approached the bed, tossing his clothes onto it. He s a t down beside them, rubbing a hand over his face and up into his feathers. He was tired and lonely. He wanted Kian, but Kian had just seen his monstrous side come out to play. And then he'd gone and kissed him! What had that been about? It had been highly inappropriate of him. They weren't even officially contracted yet... And in front of a crowd, too! He should've asked. Arien dug his fingers into his scalp, nails digging through and between the feathers. He definitely should've asked. What was wrong with him?

He shook his head and turned his attention to the robes Ahura had procured for him. First, he would clean up and change. He stood up again,  gathering  up the clothes and heading for Kasaika's bathing room. Father was right; he needed to clean up. Arien didn't want to scare anyone anymore than he had to. And now that the anger had passed--at least, somewhat--and he felt calmer, he realised just how terrified the people who had witnessed his rage had to have been. Especially Kian. He would not make that mistake again.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the VERY late chapter. I got a little caught up in, uh, life and whatnot. I totally forgot to update for, like....two months? Or something. Anyways, here's the chapter. Enjoy!

**Eleven**

**_Kian woke abruptly to an unfamiliar,_ ** darkened room. He lay there for a moment, frowning. Why had he woken so abruptly? He tried to place what it might've been and came up with a blank. Kian sighed and rolled over. And then froze. Arienkhut was at the window, peering out into the courtyard below. He turned as Kian moved, eyes roving over him but his expression was blank. Kian stared right back at him, a little afraid and a little concerned. He didn't like that blank look on the other man's face. 

"Ah, you're awake," the Crown Prince said without inflection and went back to gazing out the window. He looked away, gaze darting over the rest of the room. The bloody clothes were piled onto a nearby chair--something he hadn't seen in his room--and Arienkhut was dressed in fresh robes, feathers still glistening wetly. The man had obviously bathed. "About time. How are you feeling?"

He had to do a bit of a double-take. Was he still dreaming? Kian pinched himself to make sure, and winced. He wasn't. He sat up and cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he muttered, but he wasn't sure how convincing the lie was. His voice shook, his pulse raced and he avoided lookin g  directly at the other man. Kian grimaced. "Maybe not completely fine..."

Arienkhut snorted softly but otherwise didn't move. Kian realised he had a decision to make. Stay in the bed like a coward or get up and confront the other man. He still hesitated in doing the latter. Kian eyed the other man for a moment, gaze chasing a drop of water was it slid down Arienkhut's ear and hung, glistening for a split second before falling on his shoulder, staining the pale blue outer robe Arienkhut wore a slightly darker hue. Blue seemed to be a theme for the Ralendran Prince. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage and flung the blankets off him. Kian swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  _Arienkhut's bed,_ he realised with a start--and tried to suppress the reaction.

"You don't have to leave," the other man said softly, still peering out the window. For a second, Kian thought the Ralendran Prince's gaze had darted his way, but apparently not. He must  have  be en  seeing things. "I promise I won't touch you." Arienkhut turned away from the window, frowning. He left one hand resting on the windowsill and the other loose by his side--open body language, nothing closed or angry or confrontational. "In fact, I am here to apologize."

Kian stared at him, confused. "Apologize?" he repeated, tilting his head. He had a feeling he knew what Arienkhut might be apologising for, but he had to make sure, had to hear the other man say it himself. "Whatever for?"

Arienkhurt sighed, dragging a hand over his head, ruffling feathers in the process. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

He fell silent, looking away. "No," Kian muttered, and pushed up onto his feet. He steeled himself and faced the other man, not backing down from the sinking feeling in his gut or the fear clenched tightly around his heart. "You don't. I know what you're talking about." He gestured to the other prince. "Go on, then."

The other man stiffened, then pushed his shoulders back and rested a hip against the windowsill. "I should not have kissed you like that," Arienkhut muttered, glancing away. Kian eyed him warily. "It was inappropriate, especially for the location--but you  _need_ to know a few things about me... I can be...rather  _possessive_  of things...people." There was an unreadable look on Arienkhut's face now, and his voice was impassive, monotone. "I can't help it. That's part of my nature, as the Beloved of the Gods. I don't know why and I don't claim to understand it..." He seemed frustrated, the hand hanging by his hip curling into a tight fist. "I just... I guess I wanted to  _warn_  you, maybe...?" He shook his head, glancing towards Kian. "I am a difficult man to deal with. I hope you're prepared for that."

Kian snorted. "Is that a challenge?" he asked, echoing what Arienkhut had asked him several days ago. The other man shook his head, lips pressed into a tight line. "Alright... So you've warned me... Are you going to leave?" Another shake of Arienkhut's head. "Can...  _I_ leave?"

"No," the other man said, tone firm. "Your room is still messy. The servants are cleaning it, but that may take some hours." Arienkhut's gaze darted back to the window, and something about the way he held himself told Kian that he was ashamed. "They needed to...well, replace some furnishings..."

"I see," Kian muttered, and licked his lips. He remembered the guard, the blood across the floor, across the walls and ceiling. "So...what happened to the guard?"

"He was executed," Arienkhut said, not looking at him. He seemed so tense all of a sudden, and Kian blinked. That... He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Kian spent a long minute just watching the other man. Then he took a careful step forwards.

"When?"

"About an hour ago." The other prince shrugged. "He didn't say much. Spouted the same shit the assassin did when we interrogated her--at least, that was before someone put an arrow through her throat."

"What did he say?" Kian asked, curious despite himself. Arienkhut turned to look at him then, a strange kind of curiousity in his expression, head tilted slightly.

"The same as the assassin, I said," he muttered. "Something about being an 'agent of the shadows'. Then he threatened me, and  _then_   he spouted some spiel about spirits of death, and coming for us all." Arienkhut shrugged. "It makes no sense to me."

Kian, though, felt all the blood drain out of his face. "Is that really what they said?" he asked, taking another step forwards before remembering himself and stopping short. "That they were agents of the shadows?"

The look Arienkhut gave him then was very sharp. "It means something to you?"

"Perhaps," he said evasively, avoiding the Crown Prince's gaze. "I need to write to my father--"

" _Absolutely not,_ " Arienkhut hissed, and Kian realised the man was suddenly right in front of him. He hadn't even heard him move. But Arienkhut hadn't touched him yet, nor did he appear as if he were about to do so. "You will tell me what you know, and you will tell me  _right now._ "

Kian swallowed, backing up a step. Arienkhut's hand shot out and gripped him just beneath the elbow. It was not a harsh grip, but it was a tight one. The other man held him in place, and Kian felt a trickle of fear slide down his spine. "Why?"

"Do you want to end up like the assassin and Hagar?"

"No," he whispered, and something in Arienkhut's expression softened. It did nothing to dispel the fear that was curling around his heart and lungs, and settled to pool low in his stomach. Kian felt the sudden urge to run away, but something about the way Arienkhut was looking at him told him that running way would be a bad idea.

"Then tell me."

Kian hesitated, gaze darting away from Arienkhut's. "It's just some supid story my grandfather told me," he muttered, biting his lip. Arienkhut made an aborted little move with his free hand, then tightened his grip on the laticed wall, fingers curling through the gaps and around wood and metal tightly. "I don't even know why you'd be so interested--"

"You said that it meant something to you," Arienkhut insisted, fingers shifting against his arm. "What the assassins said... so tell me."

Sighing, he relented. "Fine." Kian took a deep breath, and a moment to arrange his thought s . He picked his words carefully. "It was meant to scare children, so I don't know how helpful it'll be." He rubbed at his face, wincing as he pressed a little too harder on his cheek and lip. "He called them a league of shadows. They're a guild of assassins and thieves and the like." He exhaled and tried to turn away, but Arienkhut's grip tightened almost painfully. "I think he told me to scare me, but I honestly don't know anymore."

"That's all he said?" 

"Yes," Kian hissed, tugging his arm back. The movement didn't even seem to budge the Ralendran Prince. "Will you let me go? I answered your questions..."

"Not yet," Arienkhut muttered, and suddenly his fingers were on Kian's chin, turning his face back towards him. "Thank you for the information." Their eyes met and Arienkhut's gaze turned assessing. Kian sucked in a sharp breath as the other man's fingers slid up onto his cheek, cupping it almost tenderly. 

"Arienkhut--"

"Arien," the other man corrected, almost absently. His grip on Kian's elbow softened, fingers brushing over his long-sleeved shirt carefully. "Call me Arien."

Kian blinked, feeling a little terrified and a little intrigued, and maybe a little bit of anticipation skating down his spine. What was happening? Just a few minutes ago, he'd been downright terrified of the man, of what he was capable of... And now? Now the danger was mixing together with the fear and the horror of what Hagar had looked like after Arien was done with him, turning it into something else entirely. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not and tried to pull away, but Arienkhut's lips twitched, almost like he was smirking--or smiling--and it made him stop short.

"May I do something?"

He was immediately suspicious, but his gut instincts were all mixed up and he could no longer tell what was a good or bad idea anymore. He let Arienkhut-- _Arien_ \--slip a thumb beneath his chin and tilt it up a little more. He exhaled carefully.

"Yes."

Arienkhut grinned. "Thank you," he whispered and ducked his head. Lips met his and Kian stood stock still for a moment. He hadn't been expecting that. He stood there for a moment, head spinning in confusion as Arien's hand slipped up his arm, across his shoulder and up to rest against his other cheek. Kian's lips parted and the other man took that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping between his lips. Something deep in Kian shuddered, sparked--and suddenly, he found himself kissing back rather vigorously, hand buried in smooth, damp feathers.

It went on for several minutes until he could no longer breathe--and then Arienkhut pulled back. They stared at one another for a moment. Arien''s eyes were darker than usual, seemingly lit from within before he glanced away, hands sliding off of Kian's face. Kian's head span and blinked slowly. He felt set adrift. Something wasn't quite right... Arienkhut stood there for a moment longer, then pulled away. Kian let the feathers slip between his fingers, frowning as Arienkhut span away from him in a flurry of blue chiffon and stalked towards the door.

The sound of the doors clicking closed seemed to snap him out of whatever spell Arienkhut had cast over him and he shook his head, stumbling back a step. Kian touched his lips carefully, frown deepening. What in the name of the gods had that been about? It took a moment for the entire kiss to process, and when it finally did, Kian growled and turned on his heel to pace a few steps away. What was wrong with him? Arienkhut had nearly eviscerated a man! He'd left "traitor" carved into the man's stomach. He'd threatened him, left bruises on his throat. Had violent mood swings. All of that should have terrified him, but it only made him even more curious. More intrigued. 

Kian cursed himself and dug his fingers into his hair, tugging sharply. He was fru s trated beyond belief, and had to wonder if this frustration was deliberate. Were they wearing him down? Confusing him into submitting to this ridiculous 'treaty'? Kian didn't know for sure, but he did know one thing. He had an undeniable attraction to Arienkhut, and it seemed that attraction was returned. Kian decided to retreat to the bathing room to deal with his frustration.

 


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we meet the Empress and she is definitely Not Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little late again. Mostly because I caught the flu and it knocked me flat for a few days. I'm feeling much better today, though! Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

**Twelve**

 

**_Arien paused outside the door,_ **  breathing hard. He clenched his fingers into his outer robe, trying to calm himself. The two guards on his door gave him wary looks. He found them easier to ignore when his head was swimming with Kian. Arien closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sucking in air that was untainted by Kian's presence. He wasn't sure how he was going to stay in hi s  room once Kian returned to his.

"Your highness?" one of the guards asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yes?" he muttered absently, not moving. He exhaled carefully and titled his head, listening to Kian pacing in the room behind him. The other prince was muttering curses under his breath, rather vehemently. Arien chuckled and opened his eyes. He glanced towards the two guards. They were still giving him that wary look but hadn't spoken again. He preferred it that way. Arien narrowed his gaze at the one of his left. "Make sure he doesn't leave."

"Yes, your highness." The guard bowed slightly, expressionless.

Nodding, Arien eased his grip on his robe and shook his hand free. He glanced down disjointedly to see his nails lengthened into talons and blinked. That was new. Arien forced the slither of slight hysteria down deep and smoothed out his robe. The emotions tumbling about in his chest were...distracting and new and he wasn't sure how to deal with them. Arien shook his head and started off down the hall, not sure where he was headed yet.

He thought of his mother, sick and dying in her room and decided he should probably pay her a visit. She might know how to deal with Kian, since he seemed t o  be struggling with him. And against himself. He really needed to learn how to deal with that, but he was lacking teachers in that department, and his mother definitely wouldn't know. She'd at least appreciate seeing her son before she died.

Arien sighed, sweeping around a corner and dodging out of the way of the young servant girl who froze at the sight of him. She blushed bright red as Arien paused only long enough to tip her tray back up so she wouldn't spill the meal on it before he moved on. He ignored her stammered 'thank you' and rounded another corner, pausing in the doorway.

The throne room was empty, guards stationed around the room standing stiffly at attention. He scanned it slowly, looking for his father. A soft sound drew his attention and Arien's gaze swung back to an alcove off the throne room he'd previous dismissed. There was a curtain drawn across it. Weak sunlight filtered in through the high windows, painting the room in pinks and yellows. He narrowed his gaze at the alcove and listened for a moment.

_There_ . A soft moan. He smirked and strode across the room, up the two steps to the curtain and flung it back. Arien froze when he found Kas pressing Joren's hips back into the wall. His brother was kneeling on the floor, head at Joren's groin. The concubine's robe was pulled open, baring his chest and the lack of pants to any who cared to look. Arien met Joren's startled gaze, the concubine blushing rather attractively.

" _Kas_ ," Joren hissed, tugging at the other man's hair. "Kas--"

"I was wondering where you two got to," Arien drawled, shifting to lean against a supporting pillar. He didn't bother waiting for his brother to finish what he was doing before continuing, mirth colouring his tone. "Where's Father?"

Kas took his time pulling away, turning slowly to face him. He didn't bother moving from his position and stayed on his knees before Joren. "Ah, Arien," Kas muttered, licking his lips and offering his brother a smirk. "I don't know where he is. He mentioned taking care of something and hasn't been seen since." His brother shrugged and slowly climbed to his feet, patting Joren on his shoulder once he was standing. "That was several hours ago."

"I take it he was disappointed with what the guard had to say?"

"Immensely."

Arien heaved a sigh and pushed off the pillar. He took a step into the alcove and jerked the curtain shut behind him. "I'm not surprised."

"Neither I am, to be perfectly honest," his brother muttered, leaning back against the wall beside Joren and crossing his arms over his chest. Neither one of them glanced towards the concubine when he hastily pulled his robes shut. "I'm surprised you left him alive, you know."

"So I am." He looked away, gaze lingering on a pillow haphazardly tossed onto the floor. Arien's gaze drifted back up and he eyed Joren for a moment, gaze narrowing. "Send the concubine away. We need to talk."

Kas opened his mouth to protest, seemed to reconsider the order and snapped it shut, glancing towards Joren. "Sorry, darling, but the royalty need to talk about important things now." He smirked, leaning in to press a kiss to the other man's cheek. "Off you go."

Joren hesitated before he sighed and pushed off the wall. "I'll see you later?"

"Of course."

With a small nod, Joren tugged the robe closed tightly and slipped past Arien. The curtain rustled softly as he stepped out of the alcove and into the throne room. Arien waited until he heard Joren's footsteps fading before he focused on his brother again.

"I'm serious, Kas," he said, gaze narrowing. "Where's Father?"

"I told you; I don't know." His brother shifted against the wall, then settled into a position that he obviously found pretty comfortable. "That's not what you want to talk about, though... is it?"

Arien looked away, biting his lip. "He let me kiss him this time."

He caught Kas raising his eyebrows from the corner of his eyes. "Really?"

"Yes," he muttered and cleared his throat. "And he told me about something. A... story... his grandfather used to tell him." Arien shrugged, dragging his gaze back to his brother's. "He seemed rather distressed about it. So I asked if I could do something--and then I kissed him."

Kas chuckled. "Well, that's fascinating." His brother pushed off the wall and approached him. "And he was receptive to it?"

"Yes."

"Then you're making progress, aren't you?" Kas caught his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "That's a good thing."

"I'm not so sure," Arien muttered, shaking a hand loose and reaching up to gingerly touch his fingers to his lips. He felt rather naked in his current state of mind, especially in front of his brother. "Kian seems rather confused by it all and, to be honest, so do I."

"Is that why you want to speak to Father?"

Arien shook his head. "I was going to tell him about the story Kian shared with me and then ask if Mother was feeling well enough for visitors."

"Ah," Kas murmured thoughtfully, "I see." He pulled back after a moment, hand slipping off Arien's shoulder. "What did Kian tell you about this story?"

He hesitated, eyeing his brother warily for a moment. "Not much," he said carefully, eyes narrowed. He felt the presence within him stirring but it did little more than that, settling quickly. "Just that his grandfather called them a league of shadows--which fits with what the assassin and the guard said--and that they were a guild of assassins and thieves, among other things..." Arien stopped short at the look his brother was giving him. "Kas? Why are you giving me that look?"

Kas frowned at him. "It's nothing," he said dismissively. "And I'm sure your mother would love visitors. Do you want me to come with you?"

Arien shook his head again. "No, I'll go alone."

"If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

"Well, I can't stop you, can I?" Kas muttered, turning away to sweep the curtain open. His expression had completely closed down when he turned to face Arien again. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go to my concubine now."

Arien inclined his head. "Have fun," he said lowly, watching his brother as he turned away and took the two steps down into the throne room. Kas threw him one last look before he strode off across the room, probably tracing Joren's very steps. Arien exhaled and followed his brother's lead, stepping out of the alcove and down into the throne room. 

He cast a quick look around the room before he turned and took a different route out. Vaguely, he wondered where his father was, and then quickly dismissed it. If the Emperor wished to speak to him, Arien reasoned that he'd know about it. He shook his head to dispel that thought and pushed through the throne room doors and out into the hall.

His mother was housed in the small tower at the rear of the palace, well away from the rest of court. Arien always dreaded the long walk up to his mother's room. The last time he'd spoken to her, she'd seemed fairly stable, if unwell...and she had refused to look at him. That had been nearly six months ago. He had no idea what she might be like now.

Arien exhaled carefully and pushed the doors opened, ignoring the looks the two guards were giving him. He could care less about the guards or their opinions. He just wanted to see his mother, ask for some advice on how to deal with Kian and then go back to his normal routine. Well, as normal as it could be, what with the Istaqan Prince in the palace now.

The sitting room of his mother's tower was empty, devoid of servants or the Empress. Arien's gaze narrowed as he took several steps into the room, eyes darting over chaise lounges and thick rugs, and elegant tapestries. "Mother?" he called softly, concerned now. "Mother, are you here?"

A servant appeared from the direction of the bedroom, panting a little. She yelped when she saw him and dropped to the floor, palms pressed flat against the floor. Arien sighed and approached the poor girl. He bent to touch the servant's shoulder. 

"Get up," he said tiredly, and retreated so the servant girl could rise. "Is the Empress awake?"

The girl kept her gaze on the floor as she scrambled to her feet. "She is awake, your highness."

Arien nodded and swept past. He didn't bother dismissing the girl, let alone saying anything else. He just wanted--no,  _needed_ \--to see his mother. She was bound to give him good advice on what to do about Kian, on how to deal with the younger man.

He slowed as he reached the bedroom doorway. The door was cracked slightly. The servant girl had obviously not closed it properly. His mother was prone to....outbursts, and was likely to yell at him. It was not unusual behaviour lately, and it had been growing worse.

Arien exhaled carefully, hesitating with one hand pressed against warm wood. He cocked his head and listened for a moment, eye narrowed. The room beyond was silent. He waited another few moments before pushing the door open more and peering through the gap.

The Empress was seated by the open window, her back to him. Arien took in her profile slowly, eyes darting about the room. There were shards of porcelain and glass on the floor beside her and a partially broken plate on the small table beside her chair. He inhaled slowly through his nose and slipped into the room.

"Mother," he said, tone carefully neutral. She flinched but did not turn around. He didn't want to startle her. Not yet, at least. "I was hoping you would be up..."

"Arien," she said, voice weak and raspy. The Empress's head turned slightly, tiny bells jangling. He caught a glimpse of her pale face and dark eyes through strands of hair and elaborate ornamentation. "It's so nice to see you."

He swallowed, hesitated and then approached slowly, warily. She was in a mood; that much he could tell. That meant she was likely to be unpredictable. "It's nice to see you as well, Mother."

She seemed to eye him carefully for a moment before turning back to the window. "What brings you all the way up to my lonely tower?"

Again, Arien hesitated. He opened his mouth, shut it and then opened it again. What was he supposed to say? How was he to even begin to explain it? He snapped his mouth shut again, lips pressed together into a firm line. Arien averted his gaze, trying to think fast. He should just...say it, really.

Arien sighed and took up an at-attention position. "Istaqa's tribute has been handed over," he said slowly and winced. He cleared his throat before continuing. "There was a...problem, but that's since been resolved."

The Empress shifted in her seat, head turning until he could almost glimpse her face again. Arien went very still, waiting and wary. "The problem?"

"The girl ran off with a bard," he said, grimacing. "Istaqa gave us their prince instead."

This time she actually turned to face him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "They gave us the heir?" she asked, surprise colouring her voice. She stared at him for a moment before her eyebrows dropped down into a fierce scowl. "Interesting... That's not exactly... logical, is it?"

Arien frowned at her. "No, it's not."

She made a non-commital noise and turned back to the window. Arien waited a moment, frustrated that she appeared to be uninterested in speaking to him. He still needed her advice on how to deal with Kian. He was struggling to keep up with the younger man and his moods, and with how to approach him. He hadn't wanted to actually commit to the other man at first, but now... Now, well. Something had changed. Arien wanted to understand it.

"When did he arrive?"

The sound of his mother's voice startled him and he blinked, straightening up a little more. She was still facing the window, but her head was tilted slightly, as if she were listening to him intently. Arien hesitated, biting his lip.

"A few weeks ago."

"Ah." She hummed, going very still. "I see."

She lapsed into silence for several minutes. Arien didn't want to bother her by speaking, but as the minutes stretched on, he grew increasingly more frustrated and uncomfortable. The servant had returned to the room to clean up the broken shards of porcelain and glass, and then left again before he gathered his courage and took another hesitant step forwards.

"Mother."

The Empress whipped around to face him. "Arien! I missed you so much."

Arien froze, eyes widening a touch. She was smiling brightly at him now, as if she hadn't noticed that he was truly there until just then. He swallowed and moved to stand beside her. She took his hands in her own and squeezed them. "Hello, Mother."

"What brings you to visit me today, darling?"

"Istaqa's tribute is here," he said, carefully neutral.  He watched his mother as he spoke, looking for sign of the cold, distant woman he'd encountered upon first entering her room, but she was just wide-eyed and open. He found the words spilling out with any more prompting. "He arrived a few weeks ago, and he has been nothing but a lesson in frustration the entire time." He looked away, out the window, and sighed. "I don't know how to deal with him, Mother. I don't know how to approach him..." He shook his head. "If it had been his sister, as it was supposed to be, then I probably wouldn't be so confused... But it's Kianoush. Their  _heir,_  and I don't know what to make of any of it..."

The Empress stared at him for a moment; he could feel her gaze on his cheek. "I suppose that is a problem, isn't it," she mused thoughtfully, and tugged on his hands. Arien tore his gaze off the window and slowly turned to meet his mother's warm eyes. She was smiling warmly at him. "What happened?"

Arien exhaled and told her the whole story; how Kian had been mishandled from the start, how Father had eyed him. Kian's reluctance and frustration, the Istaqan Prince's anger. His own anger and frustration. He told her about the assassination attempts, the way he'd attacked Hagar. Kian's hesitation afterwards. The kisses they'd shared. He had to look away at that. It was just two, one unwanted and one with permission, but just thinking about the younger man made his head spin.

When he was done, she stared at him for several long, tense minutes and then sighed, reaching up to pat his cheek. "It sounds like you two just need to talk more," she said, tone shaky. "Learn a little more about him, Arien. Let him learn more about you." She gave him a shaky smile. "And then give it time. It won't just happen overnight, darling. Relationships take time and effort. You must be patient with him. He'll come around."

Arien lowered his gaze to the floor. "Thank you, Mother," he said, and felt her hands release his. He didn't look up, not immediately. "I'll keep your advice in mind."

"It's a pleasure, my son," she said and he flicked his gaze up in time to catch her turn back to the window. It was only a few moments later that she scrambled off the chair and towards the bed, barely able to keep her feet under her. 

When she began screaming about monsters and killing them, Arien turned and left the room. It hurt to hear her accuse him of such beastly things. He did not eat people, not if he could help it. Meat, yes. But human flesh? No. He shook his head and left the servant to tend to his mother's mood. It was rare when she had such moments of clarity. He wasn't sure he'd see that side of her again anytime soon.


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen**

**_Kian stopped short in the bathing_ **  room doorway at the sight of Arien stand at the window. The other man's back was to him, but Kian could tell that Arien was tense. Something was bothering the Ralendran Crown Prince. Kian hesitated, eyeing the dark fall of feathers down Arien's back for a moment before he cleared his throat and stepped into the room.

Arienkhut went very still, but he didn't turn from the latticed window. Kian frowned at him. The guards hadn't let him leave the Ralendran Prince's rooms. He'd been stuck in them for over an hour and the restriction was starting to sting. Suffice to say, Kian was very angry now.

Dare he ask Arienkhut about what happened earlier? With the guard? Kian quickly shook his head. No. That would be playing straight into Ralendra's hands, and he refused to be used to keep his people in line. Once he'd dealt with his unwanted frustration, Kian had had a lt of time to think.

Before he had a chance to form an appropriate opening line, Arien spoke.

"I spoke to my mother today."

Kian froze. He had not been expecting the Ralendran Prince to say that-- and took a moment to compose himself, tugging on his sleeves and smoothing out his tunic. No need to let Arien know how ruffled he'd been while the other man wasn't there.

"Oh?" he asked, trying for casual, but unsure whether he succeeded or not. "How is she? I never hear much about her anymore."

"Unbalanced."

Kian blinked. That was not the response he had been expecting. In fact, Arien had almost spat the word out in a flat, inflection-less tone. It made Kian wince. If the Empress was that bad... He cleared his throat.

"I...  I see," he muttered, dropping his gaze from Arien's back to the floor. "I'm sorry I asked--"

"Don't be." Arien shifted, and Kian's gaze darted up to meet the other man's dark, intense gaze. He hadn't even heard the man move. "You didn't know." The Ralendran prince sighed. "To be honest, no one outside the palace does."

That surprised him. "Absolutely no one?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "How--don't the servants talk?"

Arien snorted. "Not with the threat of my wrath hanging over their heads."

Kian frowned at him. "I though the servants liked you--"

"Some of them," the other man said slowly, carefully. "Certainly." Arien touched his feathered head almost self-consciously. Kian watched Arien's finger dig into the feathers almost harshly. "But not all... I do scare them more often than not, Kian."

That didn't entirely surprise him, but Kian decided not to respond to the comment. Instead, he cleared his throat and crossed to the bed. He felt Arien's gaze on him as he moved and tried to ignore it. Kian was finding it very difficult to do so, though. His mind kept swinging back to the kiss they'd shared.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand touching his elbow, and looked up to find Arien standing beside him. The Ralendran Prince smiled slightly, somewhat tersely, and tipped his head towards the doors. "Your room is clean now," Arien murmured, voice low as he leaned towards Kian. "You may return to them."

Kian nodded slowly and made to turn away. Arien's grip on his elbow tightened and he froze, glancing back. "Arien?"

Arien smiled at him a little wider. "You look good in blue," he said, and then he abruptly released Kian. They stared at each other for a moment and then Arien went back to the window, turning his back on him.

Feeling set adrift, Kian lingered for a moment before he headed for the doors. The guards didn't stop him as he stepped out into the hall. They just cast him curious looks. He tried to ignore them, reaching up to finger the spot behind his ear where the soldiers had struck him all those weeks ago. The spot was still tender, but no longer bruised and swollen. He could hardly believe it had been nearly a month since he'd been taken. Sighing, he lowered his hand and turned right.

The guards didn't bother him as he walked away, nor did they appear to react as he strode off down the hall, clearly not heading for his assigned room. Kian wanted some air, and he didn't care how many rules he broke in his pursuit of it.

 

**_When Kian returned to his room,_ **  he had an unexpected visitor. The Emperor lounged on the pile of silks and cushions that Kian called a bed. He stopped abruptly, hand darting towards his hip for a weapon that wasn't there. The Emperor raised his eyebrows but made no move. Kian took a moment to scan the room, taking note of the two guards standing on either side of him. He bowed low.

"Your Imperial Majesty," he said, slow and steady, choosing his next words very carefully. "What brings your majestic presence to my humble apartments?"

"Kianoush." The Emperor's voice was inflection-less, and it sent a cold, clammy shiver down his spine. "I hear you went for a walk outside in the gardens."

Kian frowned, still bowed low. "Was I not supposed to?"

"Not without permission," the older man said, and now he sounds slightly angry. "Next time, ask before doing."

"Yes, your Imperial Majesty," Kian murmured, glancing up from the floor to catch the Emperor's movements. Silk rustled as the older man rose gracefully. He watched the older man's robe move as the Emperor approached him. 

A hand was placed on the back of his head when the Emperor paused beside him. "I am glad we've come to a small understanding," the older man muttered, then his grip tightened on a handful of Kian's hair and he jerked Kian's head up and back. Kian tried not to wince as the Emperor's steely gaze met his. "Do not make this mistake again, Little Prince. You will find that I am not as forgiving as my sons."

"Yes, your Imperial Majesty," he managed, sounding slightly choked. The Emperor stared at him for a moment longer, eyes cold and unforgiving. And then the older man released him, shoving his head back down in the process.

Kian stayed still as the Emperor strode out of the room, guards trailing after him. He waited until the doors were firmly shut before straightening up. Kian exhaled carefully and glanced towards the door before he brushed himself down with a grimace. His scalp still stung, but he ignored it in favour of heading for the so-called bed.

Another cautious glance towards the doors before he withdrew a dagger from deep within his sleeve. There was, of course, an ulterior motive for his so-called walk. Kian smiled, running his fingers over the blade before he stashed it beneath a pillow. He hadn't felt safe until that moment and knew he would sleep slightly better with the blade beneath his pillow. He'd worry less, too.

Kian froze as the doors behind him clicked open. He straightened up abruptly and turned to face the intruder. Kasaika stood in the doorway with a frown on his face. He scanned the room carefully for a moment before he glanced back over his shoulder at the guards. Kian was surprised to find himself facing down Arien's brother again.

Kasaika shut the doors in the guards faces and stalked across the room, grabbing Kian by the wrist and dragging him over to the latticed window. "Stay there," he snapped, before crossing to the bed and flipping over the pillow Kian had hidden the dagger under. "Care to explain this?"

"No," he ground out, setting his jaw stubbornly. "No, I do not."

"Kianoush..." Kasaika sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He seemed to take a moment to consider his next words and lowered his voice. "Explain to me why there is a blade beneath your pillow?"

Kian shrugged. "I don't feel safe here."

That earned him a stern look. "Right..."

He snorted and pushed off the lattice work, slowly approaching the other man. Kasaika's gaze narrowed slightly as Kian drew level with him. "Can you honestly blame me?" Kian asked, bending down to flip the pillow back over the blade. "I don't truly trust anyone here yet--"

"Not even my brother?"

That made him flinch. Kian straightened up and avoided the other man's gaze. But they both knew he couldn't answer that question. The silence stretched out for long moments. Kian broke it with a sigh, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I don't know yet," he muttered, hugging himself. "I--"

Kasaika took hold of his elbows and turned Kian to face him. "Kianoush, he's someone you can trust," Kasaika said lowly, sliding a hand up along his arm to his cheek. The other man tilted his head until their gazes met. "He is not what he seems."

He snorted again. "You have got to be joking," he snapped, jerking his chin out of Kasaika's grip. "I saw what he did to that guard. He's violent and unpredictable, and he keeps threatening me!"

The other man raised his eyebrows. "You can't honestly believe that--"

He was cut off by the doors slamming open. Kasaika abruptly released him, glancing towards the doors. Kian slowly turned towards them as well. Arienkhut stood in the doorway, a slightly furious look on his face. Kian froze, catching the way Kasaika went pale from the corner of his eyes. Arien's gaze narrowed.

"Kasaika," he said lowly and the man in question stiffened. Another slight narrowing of Arien's gaze and his brother bowed lowly before bolting from the room. Kian watched the way Arien shifted to watch him go before he turned back to pin Kianoush in place. He swallowed slightly.

"Arien, he wasn't--"

" _Don't._ " The word escaped in a harsh, broken tone and Kian felt something in him respond. His breath rushed out of him and he had to force himself not to move an inch as Arien approached in a slow, steady glide. It was almost like he was being stalked, and he found he couldn't look away. Not even as vaguely unwanted anticipation began to bubble up inside his chest, sliding lower the longer Arien just looked at him. "Just...don't. Please, Kian."

Kian opened his mouth, considered the dark edge to Arien's gaze, and abruptly shut it again. He closed his eyes as Arien's mouth met his. Fingers gripped his wrists, pushing them to his sides. And then he was being guided backwards, away from the bed. Fear and anticipation jumbled together low in his belly as he felt Arien press against him. It confused him so much that he couldn't concentrate, couldn't  _think_ . He could only feel--

His back hit the latticed wall abruptly, startling him into opening his eyes. Arien was watching his face, not breaking the kiss. There was a tug on the lower hem of his shirt and the sound tearing silk, and then his wrists were being pressed together against the wall above his head. Kian closed his eyes again, head swimming with confusion and arousal. Why was he even allowing it? Why wasn't he stopping Arien?

Arien suddenly pulled away and Kian unconsciously made to follow only to be brought up short. His eyes flew open and he gave Arien a startled look. Being restrained was not good for his state of mind, especially his current one. _Heaviness against his wrists, pain--so much pain--and the scent of his own flith--_  He cut off that memory quickly, and opened his mouth again, as if to ask  _why_ , but Arien gave him a look, and he stopped himself from speaking, snapping his mouth shut with a confused look at Arien.

"Stay there," the Crown Prince got out, voice gone husky with desire. His eyes were lit from within, and he almost looked like he was walking a fine line, fighting for control. Kian swallowed shallowly and leaned back against the wall, giving him a slight nod despite not even being sure why he was allowing himself to be bound. Arien looked slightly relived at his assent and seemed to relax a little. "Don't move.  _Please._ "

Kian pressed his lips together, fighting the sensations Arien had evoked in him. He glanced up distractedly to where he wrists were pinned to the wall. A strip of his robe had been torn off and used to tie him to the latticework window. He stared at it for a moment, feeling disconnected, mind floating. When he finally managed to focus and begin to feel angry about his current predicament, Arien was gone. Kian swore, violently, and jerked on the silk restraints. They refused to budge, and he cursed some more. He was going to give Arien a piece of his mind when the other man returned. How dare Arien tie him up and leave him like that!


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh...may have completely forgotten to update this for, like...a month? Can you blame me? I got a job and work was e x h a u s t i n g.
> 
> Ahem. Anyways. So here, have a couple of chapters. I have two more pre-written before you'll have to wait longer for chapters. Enjoy!

**Fourteen**

**_Arien pressed his forehead against_ **  the cool stone wall of the alcove he'd hidden himself in. He dug fingernails-turned-talons into the wall as he fought against he desire to just return and  _take._  That thought had him shuddering, and he pressed harder against the wall, clawing at it to keep himself from doing anything worse.  _Better the walls than myself,_  he thought with a tiny little derisory snort.  _Or Kian. Gods, anyone but him._

That presence deep inside his chest was undulating and shifting, pressing against the things that made him who he was. So he pressed back, and every time he did, he felt the silky glide of feathers against his mind. Arien pressed his lips together, trying to smother the whimpers threatening to escape. He wasn't sure he succeeded. The cool, dark presence in his chest rose up to brush against him once more, and Arien gasped at the reassurance that surged through him.

_Feathers slipped against skin, against cool, stone walls--_

"Arien?" A hand on his shoulder, his brother's voice. "Arien, are you alright?"

Kasaika's presence, his voice, jerked him back from whatever edge he'd been teetering on. Arien sucked in a desperate breath, not even realising that he hadn't truly been breathing for some time. He leaned into that hand, and then his brother when Kas pulled him away from the wall. Talons dug into warm flesh and silk, drawing blood. The scent pulled him another step back from the dark precipice he'd been on.

"Kas," he whispered without opening his eyes. He clung to his brother like he was the only piece of driftwood keeping him afloat in stormy seas. "Kas, I---... What...?"

"You're alright," his brother whispered back, seeming to know what he was asking without Arien having to voice it. He slit his eyes, peering at the dark groves he'd carved into the alcove wall. "I've got you, little brother. You're alright."

"Kas," he breathed after a moment of collecting himself. He caught his brother glancing down at him. "Kian--"

"He's safe, Arien." A grimace. "And I swear, I was only talking to him. I wasn't going to take him away from you."

Arien shuddered again, feeling suddenly cold without the presence inside him surging up. He clung to Kas a little tighter. "I know that," he muttered, lowering his gaze to the floor. He caught a glimpse of his talon-tipped fingers and bit his lip. "I know that now, but try telling that to my instincts." He let out a morose little chuckle. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Kas."

Kas's curled fingers were suddenly under his chin, tipping his head up. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them. "It doesn't matter, Arien." He seemed to study Arien's face for a moment, then leaned forwards to press his lips to Arien's forehead. "You need to rest. Let me take you back to your rooms." He pushed them both away from the wall, out into the hall. "We can talk more there."

Arien refused to look at the scattering of servants in the hall, or the guards who'd come to see what had startled the servants. He found he couldn't meet their gazes. He'd very nearly lost all control just now, and all because he'd seen Kian being touched by someone else--and then he'd had to touch, to claim, to--

He swallowed, forcing himself to focus on taking step after step as Kas led him through the palace halls back to his rooms. His doors stood slightly ajar, just like he'd left them, while Kian's were firmly closed. He cast them a longing glance as Kas dragged him past. The presence inside him stirred again briefly before settling. Arien felt nausea rising at the thought that he might have hurt someone, and pushed it down.

The gold-gilded black marble doors opened before him--he wasn't even sure where the servants opening them were even hiding--and Kas guided him through and into his room. The doors shut with a heavy, grinding clatter. Kas released him and Arien stumbled into the nearest chair. He sat down heavily and dropped his head into his hands.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered, digging talon-tipped fingers into feathers and scalp. "I was so close to losing all my senses, and it wasn't an edge I've ever felt close to before."

Kas was silent for so long that Arien thought he'd left and had to look up. His brother was standing stock still a few paces away with a pained grimace on his face. Arien blinked and sat up a little straighter. 

"Kas?"

His brother wasn't moving, and Arien wasn't sure why. "I'm fine," Kas managed after a moment, meeting Arien's worried gaze. "You?"

"I don't know," he muttered and looked away. Arien studied the floor, listening to his brother struggle with himself for a moment. "I was so afraid of hurting him..."

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him freeze up. "You won't hurt him, Arien," Kas told him, gently and without any of the self-hatred Arien felt towards himself. "I know you struggle with your instincts, but you won't hurt him."

"You can't know that--"

"I can," Kas said firmly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I  _can._  You must trust yourself not to hurt him first, Arien."

Arien rubbed his hands over his face, eyes drifting closed. He thought of Kian, of how he'd last seen him; head tipped back, eyes on the blue silk wrapped around both wrists; the way the silk secured him to the latticed window. Arien abruptly looked up, meeting his brother's concerned gaze.

"Kian," he gasped, grabbing for his brother's nearest hand. "I... I left him bound..." He swallowed and glanced away. "Will you...?

Kas's grip tightened on his hand, and he laid the other over top of them. "Of course."

"Thank you, brother."

Arien let his brother's hand slip out of his, lowering his head. Kas's footsteps retreated to the doors. He listened carefully as they were cracked open and his brother slipped out into the hall. Arien stared at his hands, fingernails still turned to talons, and exhaled carefully. He glared at them, at the evidence of dark stone curled beneath them where they met skin. Arien began to brush it all off with shaking fingers on even shakier hands. 

_Feathers slipped against ribs and skin, against lungs and heart and--_

Panick welled up inside his chest when he couldn't get it all off, and he cursed under his breath, voice shaky. The presence in his chest welled up again, pressing against his ribs and curling invisible talon-tipped fingers around his lungs. Arien struggled to breathe for a moment, fighting the feeling--and then he let it take over him. It surged up in triumph, victorious in a battle Arien hadn't realised he'd been almost always subconsciously fighting; sick, twisted pleasure in being free swept through him. It made Arien--the part of him that withdrew from the presence--feel ill.

The table went flying, smashing against the wall and shattering into a thousand pieces. The chair followed soon after, and then so did a myriad of other things; furniture, plates, glass vases. Arien watched it all as if he were just an observer. He had no control here; this was anger, and anger was the presence's domain.


	15. Fifteen

**Fifteen**

**_Kian twisted his wrist one way_ ** and then another, ignoring everything but the act of trying to get free. He could feel panic welling up inside his chest, but ignored it in favour of twisting his thumb at the right angle until it popped. He winced and fiddled with the silk restraints until he could slip his thumb free. Right at the moment, a hand landed over his partially free one. He froze, eyes wide as he saw a blade descend to cut the silk ties. 

Abruptly released, Kian turned towards his rescuer. Kasaika, Arien's brother, stood a foot away with dagger in hand. The very dagger Kian had hidden beneath a pillow. They stared at each other for a moment, before Kian jerked away from him, into the latticed window. 

"Don't," he whispered, tugging at the silk still wrapped tightly around his wrists. "Don't touch me."

Kasaika tossed the dagger onto the bed and held up his hands to show that he wasn't a threat. Kian eyed him warily, leaning heavily against the latticework. Silence stretched out between them as Kian carefully unwound the silk from around his wrists. He tossed it to the floor in disgust, grimacing.

"Are you alright?"

Kasaika's voice brought his head up and he met the other man's wide gaze. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw concern in them for a moment. Kian shook off the heavy, muddled sensations he felt and tried to focus on him. The phantom sensation of silk around his wrists was very distracting, and it brought forth muddled memories he didn't want to look at too closely.

"I, uh," he began and then stopped, frowning. Kian cleared his throat and tried again. "I think so."

They stared at each other, the awkward, uncomfortable silence stretching out until Kian suddenly became aware of just what Arien did to him in the process of binding him to the wall. He winced and swiftly turned away, trying not to think about it. He was still mad at Arien after all. And Kasaika was being strangely unflirtful. It confused him.

"Why?" he asked once he'd gained his bearing a little more. "Why did you help me?"

"He asked."

There was no need to specify who the 'he' was, and they both knew it. Kian sighed, and leaned his forehead against the latticework. "Great," he muttered, and promptly put his fist through it. He glared out through the latticework, pulling his fist back slowly. He barely even registered the pain.

"Kian!" Kasaika hissed, and suddenly his fingers were wrapped around Kian's wrist, tugging him round to inspect his injury. He glanced down at it, feeling somewhat detached, and frowned at the splinters stuck through skin and fingers, clearly bleeding already.

"What?" he said casually, flicking his gaze up to met the other man's. "I can't put a fist through the wall to deal with my anger?"

Just at that moment, something crashed against the wall on the other side of the bathing room. They both glanced towards it, curious and concerned and, on Kian's part, annoyed. Another crash sounded, and then the shattering of glass and porcelain. Kasaika winced. Kian just looked away, scowling. Something hit the wall with a massive crack, making Kian flinch. Kasaika's gripped tightened--probably unintentionally, but it still caused panic to bubble up in Kian's chest--and Kian tried to tug away.

"Let go," he said quietly, trying to twist his wrist out of Kasaika's grip, but the man refused to do so. "Please--"

Another massive crack resounded through the room and suddenly Kian found himself pressed against the wall. The panic bubbled up and over, and he began to struggle with the other man like a mad man. Kasaika, not quite understanding, tried to calm him down even as Kian scrambled to scratch at his face, neck and arms.

"Let go, let go, let go--" Kian lost himself in his panic-induced struggle, shoving at the heavy weight keeping him pinned to the wall. In his mind, he wasn't in the Ralendran Palace with a Ralendran Prince trying to calm him down. He was back in a dark, dank cell beneath the Istaqan Palace with a shoulder wound and the rats, and the gnawing hunger of being half-straved, along with the tainted memory of hands on him, holding him down while someone flayed the skin off his back, screaming; "Let me go!"

Abruptly, the heavy weight was gone and he was jolted out of the memory by cool, feminine hands on his face. "Your Highness?" someone asked, and he vaguely recognised the voice as the one belonging to the servant that had been attending to him all those weeks. "Prince Kianoush?"

He blinked and found the young woman peering down at him. He quickly realised that he'd slid down the wall once Kas had released him and was now covering his head with his hands, legs pressed firmly together while he wept silently. One incident of being bound, outside of his arrival at the palace, and he was a completely broken mess? What was wrong with him? Kian cleared his throat and straightened up, looking away and not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, even though he knew he was convincing no one. He took a moment to compose himself before repeating in a firmer tone; "I'm fine."

"With all due respect, your highness," she replied, voice lowered, "you don't look fine."

"Ahura."

She rose gracefully and turned to face Kasaika. Kian kept his gaze on the floor, picking at a loose thread on his pant leg. He tried to take some deep, calming breaths before he decided to get up. He needed to clear his head of the muddled memories again. He exhaled carefully before dragging his gaze off the floor and up to meet the other man's.

"I'm fine, Kasaika."

The other man didn't look convinced, but Kian didn't need him to be. He just needed to convince himself. He sat there a moment longer and then climbed to his feet, using the wall to do so. And promptly grimaced when he tried to use his right hand. Ahura rushed forwards to steady him but Kian quickly waved her off with a stern glance. He began tending to his own injuries, hand shaking slightly as he pulled a splinter out of the edge of his thumb.

Kasaika cleared his throat, making him glance up briefly. "I didn't just come to check on you for my brother," he said slowly, and glanced at Ahura. She darted off to the now open double doors. "Father has decided you're allowed to leave your rooms--at least, if only to attend the coming feasts."

Kian blinked at him. "Really?"

"Yes."

He frowned. "That doesn't sound like your father." He gestured about the room, catching sight of Ahura returning with a wrapped bundle. "He was just in here threatening me about leaving the room without permission."

"Well, apparently he's changed his mind." Kasaika glanced towards Ahura and gestured to Kian's 'bed'. "Put them there."

Kian drifted a few steps closer to the bed, eyeing the bundle warily. He couldn't help being curious about it, either. He watched Ahura carefully as she went to undo the heavy, silk cord holding it together. "What's that?"

"You'll see," Ahura said, tone carefully neutral, "Highness."

"....what exactly is this for?"

"You've been invited to the feast tonight," Kasaika said, making Kian turned to face him. They stared at each other. "Father expects you to be on your best behaviour, and to wear what you're told to wear." Kas tilted his head towards Ahura and the now opened bundle on the bed. Kian glanced in that direction. Blue-white glinted at him. "Hence the new clothes." Kasaika took a step towards him, making Kian's gaze snap back to the other man. "Now, let's tend to those wounds, shall we?"


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, so sorry for taking so long to update this. I have one more chapter written and then I need to finish the next one. Soooo after Chapter Seventeen, you may be waiting a while for more. Sorry. ;-;
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!

**Sixteen**

**_Arien sat at the table_ ** on the dais, staring down at it blankly. He felt unbalanced, detached in a way he’d never felt before. And angry. At himself, for his reaction to Kas being so close to Kian. At Kas, for pushing when he knew not to. He’d asked him to check on Kian, though, so he could hardly blame his brother for the presence’s reactions. He could feel eyes on him, watching his every move—or rather, lack thereof—including his father’s gaze, concern edged with wariness, tainted by alcohol, and could imagine what they were thinking, what they were wondering. By now, the servants would’ve spread rumours of his destruction of his room—and it had been destruction; he’d destroyed almost everything—and the court would be wondering. Wondering why he was so quiet, why he’d let his anger loose.

And none of their guesses would be far from the truth.

They probably thought he was being tamed, and in a way, they were right. But no, he’d destroyed his room because he’d nearly  _destroyed Kian_ , and he’d had to redirect those instincts elsewhere. He wasn’t sure if Kian was ready to see that side of him yet. He knew the other man had already caught glimpses, seen the aftermath of his rage. The reminder of his viciousness clawed cruelly into a man’s stomach.

Arien tried to control the wince, tried to keep his face blank and not glance at the way his fingernails were now permanently claws,  _talons_. He’d tried to force them back but nothing he did would work. They were stuck like that, and probably would be for a long time to come. He’d edged closer to whatever darkness was curled up and sleeping in his chest. He’d lost some part of himself to it and had to wonder if his gaze was sharper, his eyes more... _other_ than before.

He exhaled slowly, shifting his position on the cushion, easing the ache in the outer thigh he had pressed down against the cushion beneath him even as his laced fingers tightened on each other where they rest on his other knee, leg propped upright with his foot planted firmly on the floor. He’d clawed himself viciously when he realised he couldn’t will the claws away even as he balanced on an edge between himself and some darker, more dangerous version of himself.

Movement beside him drew his gaze and he found Kas kneeling beside him with his usual cup of mead. He gave him a dispassionate look before sighing. "What do you want?"

"You should know something," Kas said, tilting his cup towards him. Arien blinked slowly, unable to find the energy to even be curious. He was too concerned with how unbalanced he felt, how something inside of him felt cracked open. Kas frowned at him. "About Kian."

_That_ got his attention, and he turned to stare at his brother with a less despairing look. "What--?" he managed, then cleared his throat and got out a question; "What do you mean?"

"Leaving him bound definitely wasn't good for him," his brother said, lowering his voice and casting a quick glance around the table. "He had some kind of...panic attack when you started tossing furniture around. Flinched a lot... Even...well..." Kas turned his head and Arien caught a glimpse of four angry red lines down the side of Kas's neck. They started near his ear and disappeared beneath his brother's robes. "I tried to calm him down, but he fought me. He begged me not to hurt him, Arien. To let him go." Kas grimaced. "I don't think he knew where he was, in those moments."

Arien stared at his brother, at the marks left by fingernails on his neck, then met Kas's haunted eyes. "I... had no idea."

"I don't think anyone does," his brother muttered, bringing his cup up to his lips. His next words were muffled into the mead as he took a sip. "I've never heard anyone....anything like it, Arien. The way he pleaded with me to let go." Kas shuddered, met Arien's gaze again. "I don't know what's happened, but you may need to be careful from now on."

He nodded, not particularly sure if he could trust his voice after that little exchange. He cleared his throat again and had a sudden, dawning horror. Kian had been in the military. He'd been on the front lines before. Arien had heard rumours. He'd heard about an attack on the Istaqan prince, heard stories of how... unstable some of the Istaqan royalty could be. And he had to wonder... He met Kas's gaze, eyes wide and unable to hide the growing horror in them.

"You don't think...?" He couldn't finish the sentence, but from the look on Kas's face, he knew. His brother knew something. Arien scowled, and then shut down his expressions, affecting a mildly annoyed air. "Damn, that's going to make this harder than I thought it'd be..."

"I have my theories," his brother confirmed, and then stood up slowly, stiffly. "I'll see if my spies can dig anything up." Kas inclined his head. "Until then, be careful."

"I appreciate the advice," he muttered and then let his gaze drift back to the table. 

Kas's footsteps were not as confident as they usually were when he walked off. If anything, he seemed to have a limp. Arien frowned and than smoothed out his expression, aiming for the blank mask he usually wore at feasts. He would speak to Kas about it later. For now, he had quite a few things to think about. Like whatever affected Kian so badly that he would not only scratch Kas but also  _not know where he was._

A hush fell over the room and he let his gaze flicker up and around, coming to rest on Kian where the man hesitated in a doorway. Arien sucked in a sharp breath, drinking in the sight his concubine made in robes of white and gold and blue, a contrast to his eyes, his skin, his hair. Kian looked  _beautiful._

Kian gazed out over the court for a moment then seemed to compose himself and brushed hands down his robes before gliding towards the dais. Arien stared openly, uncaring of the looks he was getting or the whispers that started, as Kian reached his side and slowly, gracefully, sank down onto the cushion beside him. He cast Arien a sidelong look before settling into a perfect consort position, legs bent together and to the side of him, facing Arien slightly. He had to wonder who told him to do that.

“Kian,” he murmured, giving him another once over. There were bandages wrapped tightly around one hand, already lightly stained with red. Arien raised an eyebrow then went still when he noticed the dark marks around Kian’s wrists. Bruises? He took the bandaged hand, sliding a thumb over the back of it before touching the fingers of his other hand to the bruising on his wrists. He felt a little guilty, and Kas's words came back to haunt him. He wet his lips, didn't look away from the other man's wrists. “This...? I’m sorry...”

Kian pulled his hand away and Arien let him. “Don’t be,” he muttered, not meeting Arien’s eyes. “Not your fault, Arien.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and then lowered his gaze. Arien couldn’t help watching those eyelashes, the glimpse of blue beneath them. “I struggled.”

Something between them had changed. Kian appeared to be more...exposed somehow, more open and willing to talk, to accept his touch. Arien was acutely aware, suddenly, of his father’s sharp gaze. He forced himself to ignore it and focus on his concubine. He could analyse everything later, as much as he liked. Because something about Kian's new attitude was  _wrong,_ and he intended to find out why.

Arien cleared his throat. “Something is different about you.”

Kian tensed. “Don’t tie me up ever again without warning,” his concubine said, tone soft but stern. His voice dropped into a barely there whisper; “ _please_ .”

He inclined his head, unsure of how to respond to that request, to the way Kian’s voice shook slightly. Not that the other man was paying attention anyway. Arien cleared his throat again, feeling awkward and decided to change the subject. 

“You look very... handsome.”

He watched his consort carefully, taking in the slight tension in Kian’s shoulders, the way he held himself stiffly, as if he were sorer than he let on. Arien’s eyelids lowered and he inhaled through his noise, nostrils flaring when he caught the other man’s scent; fear, trepidation and a dash of shame, of self-loathing. He frowned.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, startling Kian into looking at him. Arien tilted his head, meeting his concubine’s gaze steadily. He could detect a trace of something else, something old and stale and surprisingly sharp; terror. Old terror. Kian refused to keep up the eye contact and his gaze darted away. “Kian?”

“No,” his concubine muttered with a sharp jerk of his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

His frown deepened but Arien decided to let the issue go. He’d dig deeper later, find out exactly what Kian was hiding from him. In the meantime, he supposed he should get up and  _mingle_. He nearly curled a lip in disgust and only just managed to keep it off his face. No need to let the nobles know he hated everything about the court. 

Arien stood slowly, not entirely comfortable about leaving Kian alone but unable to do anything about it, and straightened his clothes. He looked up, met his father's sharp gaze and narrowed his own gaze at the older man. There was....something in his father's gaze, something dangerous. Arien stiffened slightly, trying not to betray anything to the knowing look the Emperor gave him.

Because the man facing him down wasn't his father in that moment. It was the cold, callous Emperor the entire realm feared.


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long to come out. A lot of stuff was going on; work, missing cat, said cat coming home, vet visits. Anyways, enjoy! (And I'm working on ch3 of Dark Space Between, so do keep an eye out for it!)

**Seventeen**

**_He watched Arien take the stairs_ ** down onto the main floor and begin to drift. There'd been a moment where the Ralendran Prince had seemed to stare at something behind him, something wary in his gaze, before he'd met Kian's eyes and offered him a tiny smile, barely more than the lifting of the corners of his lips. Kian couldn't help staring at that, despite feeling unfocused and floaty, even hours after their last encounter. He resolutely ignored the dull flare of old memories and dropped his gaze to the table, sitting stiffly and unmoving despite the eyes he could feel on him. So many eyes. He nearly shuddered, but managed not to at the last moment.

Someone sat beside him and he flinched before he could stop himself, turning to eye the new threat warily. An older man was watching him, eyes narrowed in an assessing manner. Kian frowned at him, taking in the dark blue eyes, the grey hair that glinted faintly blue in the torchlight. He blinked slowly. A healer, then. The healer that had treated him that first night in the palace. He barely recognized the man, considering his memory of the healing, of the day he woke up afterwards, was blurred. The only thing he remembered in sharp detail was Arien. 

“Evening,” the healer said, tilting his head to the side. Sharp eyes studied him a little longer, dropping to his wrists, his bandaged hand before coming back up. “His Highness, Prince Kasaika, asked me to check on you.”

Kian frowned and found himself mentally withdrawing from the conversation, turning his head away. “I’m fine,” he said flatly, ignoring the little snort of disbelief the healer released. “There’s nothing to check on. Your services are not required.”

“Not required or not wanted?” the healer asked quietly, voice low. Kian glanced back towards him despite his desire to ignore the older man. The healer sighed. “Listen, Boy. I don’t care. I owe Prince Kasaika a favour, and he’s obviously collecting on it. Do us both a favour and let me do my job, alright?”

Kian exhaled a harsh breath and turned towards the other man. “What do you want?”

“Firstly, an introduction,” the man muttered and leaned down into a slight bow without unseating himself. “I am the head palace healer, Elidyr Ardys. You may call me Elidyr when we’re alone and Healer Ardys when we are not.”

Kian inclined his head. “Well met, Healer Ardys,” he said, watching as the older man straightened up. “Crown Prince Kianoush Ea Istaqanat, but you already knew that. Didn’t you?”

Elidyr seemed to be amused by the introduction. His eyes danced with his amusement, and Kian felt like it was mocking him. “But of course, your highness. Now I can see some bruising and some bandages. My oaths as a healer demand I tend you, even if you’re clearly not badly injured.”

Kian offered the man his bandaged hand, ignoring the way his skin crawled with the attention of so many people. He’d never liked to be the focus of everyone’s attention. It had felt worse in Istaqa, but here, in Ralendra, there was an especially sharp edge to it all.

He sighed. "Fine."

Elidyr leaned closer, clearly focused on Kian's hand as he turned it this way and that, making a small noise in the back of his throat. "Ahura treated you, did she not?"

"Yes." Kian tensed, eyeing the healer's bent head with wary concern. "How can you tell?"

"She trained under me for a few months," the healer murmured, focused on his hand as he poked and prodded, unwrapping the bandage slightly to get a better look. "As all palace servants are required to do." Elidyr looked up, offering him a small smile. "I can't very well tend to every bump and scrape and bruise and burn all on my own, can I? It's wise to give them basic training. They can tend to themselves if it's a minor injury. If it's bad, they'll come to me."

Kian  _hmmed_ thoughtfully. "Makes sense," he allowed, cautious and wary still. Elidyr, despite all of Kian's attempts to ignore him or brush him off, stayed put. He sighed, glancing out across the room to find Arien. The Ralendran Prince was speaking with a group of nobles dressed in various shades of red or purple. "Who are they?"

Elidyr's fingers stilled on his hand and Kian turned to find the man staring out over the crowd at the men and women. The healer scowled and went back to examining his hand. "Ah, them," Elidyr said, clearing his throat to draw Kian's attention back to him. "Those... are members of the Emperor's Harem."

"The Emperor's Harem?" he asked, glancing back towards them. Arien was speaking to a woman dressed in deep purple. "Interesting... Who is Arienkhut speaking to?"

"Ah, that would be Lady Haizea," the healer muttered, sounding amused. "Kasaika's mother."

Kian swung his head back towards Elidyr. " _That's_   Kasaika's mother?"

"Yes."

The healer was definitely amused now. Kian sighed and turned to watch Arien and the woman -- Haizea -- interact for a moment. Arien seemed amused by something she said, and then they looked back towards where Kasaika sat. They seemed...close. He frowned, and then decided he didn't need to see it. He turned back to Elidyr, expression neutral.

"She's rather beautiful," he said, forcing himself to watch what the healer was doing with his hand. Elidyr had already started re-wrapping his hand, tutting at him all the while. Kian decided not to react to the subtle chiding from the healer. "I can see where Kasaika gets it from."

Elidyr laughed. "Yes, she's rather pretty," the healer said, smiling softly. "Why do you think the Emperor claimed her as a concubine?"

Kian blinked. Well, that would make sense, too. He exhaled carefully and pulled his hand back, tucking in the loose end of the bandage. "Interesting," he muttered, rubbing a hand over the tightly re-wrapped bandage. Kian turned to Elidyr. "Are you done attending to my injury?"

The healer inclined his head. "The physical one, at least."

He frowned deeply at the other man, shifting uneasily before forcing himself to still. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Elidyr stared at him, gaze level and meaningful. Kian stared back, confused. Whatever did the healer mean? Surely not...  _that._ He was  _not_ going to speak of his time in the Istaqan dungeons, and definitely not about his time on the border. If Elidyr thought he was going to get Kian to talk about either of those things, he had another thing coming.

"Nevermind," the healer said, and sighed. "Well, I've assessed your injury and it appears to be well tended to." Elidyr rose gracefully and gave Kian a proper bow. "It was a pleasure to meet you, your highness, but now I must be off to keep His Highness, Prince Kasaika, in line."

Kian watched as the healer swept down off the dais and into the crowd. Wherever he was headed, it was definitely not towards Kas, who was seated on the other side of the Emperor. Before he could puzzle over it more, Arien was back and settled down onto his cushion beside him. Kian glanced towards him, keeping his face angled down like Ahura had suggested, and waited. Arien stared at him for a long moment, briefly brushed his fingers over Kian's bandaged hand before turning to reach for a nearby cup.

He waited a beat before reaching for his own cup, not looking at anyone or anything else. Kian did not want to be at the feast, and he certainly hadn't wanted to have so many people watching his every move. It was twisting him up into knots far worse than the Istaqan Court ever had. He inhaled sharply through his nose, glancing discretely towards Arien again. Was it jus his imagination, or were Arien's eyes sharper?

At that moment, there was a single clap from the Emperor and everyone fell silent. Kian turned towards the man just like everyone else did, including Arien. He began a speech, something about joining hands and hearts and conquering peace... Kian stopped listening after about the second or third line, but perked up when dancing was mentioned. He glanced up just in time to see six or so beautiful young men and women file into the room, taking up residence in the space between the dais and the rest of the room.

A strong, steady beat began; a thumping that settled in Kian's bones and rattled something deep within him. Kian tried to focus on the dancers as he reached for his own cup. He sipped it slowly, not paying much attention to the wine inside it or to Arien sitting beside him. The dancers twisted and twirled, spinning around and around in their pretty, semi-opaque chiffon. The scrapes of cloth barely left anything to the imagination. Kian glanced towards Arien, and found the other prince watching him. He set his cup down slowly, not paying attention to the dance even as a fast, erratic beat began.

He raised an eyebrow at the other prince, watched as those eyes narrowed. "What?" he whispered, frowning slightly. "What is that look for?"

Arien snorted and looked away, back to the dancers. Kian picked his cup up, frowning down at his hand when it shook. He put the cup down abruptly, confused. Why was he suddenly shaking? Kian's frown deepened when he felt something wet and warm on his top lip. He reached up to touch it, feeling more warm liquid seeping from his nose. When he pulled his finger away, it was stained with dark blood.

"Arien," he whispered, catching the prince's attention. It took a moment for the prince to look at him, and when he did, something like growing horror crawled over the Ralendran Prince's face. "What...is happening...?"


End file.
